oo 


MARY  E.  STEARNS 


Mary  E.  Stearns 


Mary  E.  Stearns 

By 

Millicent  Todd 
One  of  her  Pupils 


Cambridge 
Printed  at  the  Riverside  Press 

,  .909 


Preface 

MRS.  STEARNS  was  not  a  famous  woman. 
Why  should  her  life  be  written  ? 

We,  her  pupils,  wanted  to  have  this  book 
made,  not  because  parts  of  her  life  were  ro- 
mantic, nor  because  she  was  universally  ad- 
mired and  loved,  though  both  are  true;  not 
even  because  she  achieved  success  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  though  that  is  also  true;  but  be- 
cause we  know  that  the  character  she  perfected 
is  a  very  tangible  success, —  because  it  brought 
sweetness,  strength,  inspiration  to  us  all. 

The  book  is  a  very  small  tribute  of  our  very 
great  love  for  Mrs.  Stearns. 

A  study  of  her  shows  what  can  be  done 
with  adversity.  It  shows  how  much  a  human 
soul  can  bear,  not  with  resignation,  but  with 
cheerfulness,  when  filled  with  divine  power. 
Her  life  proves  how  real  a  thing  this  power  can 
be,  for  the  essence  of  her  genius  was  religion. 

To  attempt  an  enumeration  of  Mrs.  Stearns's 
religious  views  would  be  not  only  an  intrusion, 
but  an  impossibility.  And  the  breadth  of  a 
[  v] 


PREFACE 

Christian  life  whose  extent  of  influence  can  be 
exceeded  only  by  the  grandeur  within  the  soul 
If,  could  hardly  have  been  comprehended 
by  a  girl  in  her  teens.  She  could  only  revere 
and  deeply  love. 

On  this  plea  I  have  tried  to  write  about  Mrs. 
Stearns,  from  my  point  of  view  as  her  pupil  I 
can  mention  only  those  traits  which  I  admired, 
rather  than  a  thousand  and  one  things  which 
others  older  than  I,  and  more  suited  to  under- 
st.irul  them,  did  appreciate.  This  book  cannot 
fail  in  being  incomplete;  for  fully  to  understand 
her  character  would  necessitate  a  depth  of  reli- 
gious thought  not  less  than  her  own. 

If  any  words  I  have  written  serve  even  to 
suggest  the  dear  living  Mrs.  Stearns,  then  it 
will  comfort  my  sadness  in  realizing  how  in- 
adequately I  have  set  forth  one  of  the  noblest 
women  who  ever  lived. 

M.  T. 

Amhcrst,  Macsachuietti, 
October  18,  1909. 


[vi] 


Content^ 


INTRODUCTION I 

Childhood  and  Girlhood    ...          3 

PART  I.    MARRIED  LIFE         .        .        .        .41 

I.    First  Year  in  Bombay         .         .        43 

n.    Matheran 88 

in.    Indian  Incidents         ...        95 

iv.    Various  Journeys  ....  108 

v.    The  Persian  Gulf       .        .        .121 

vi.    Home  Life  in  India        .        .         .  140 

vii.    Paris 160 

vin.    Mr.  Stearns's  Failure      .         .         .184 
ix.    Last  Year  in  India     .         .         .       203 

x.    Orange 212 

xi.    Death  of  Mr.  Stearns          .         .       226 

INTERLUDE 235 

PART  II.    LIFE  ALONE         ....      243 

I.    Beginning  of  Life  in  Amherst         .  245 

n.    Opening  of  the  School        .         .       255 

in.    Early  Years  of  the  School       .         .  268 

iv.    Amherst  Activities       .         .         .288 

v.    Later  Years  of  the  School      .         .301 

vi.    Closing  of  the  School,  and  Death      317 

APPENDIX 341 


Illustrations 

MARY  E.  STEARNS  ....  Frontispiece 
MARY  E.  STEARNS,  1859  ....  38 
MOUNT  PLEASANT,  MALABAR  HILL,  BOMBAY  44 
WILLIAM  FRENCH  STEARNS  .  .  .  .84 
MARY  E.  STEARNS,  PARIS,  1866  .  .  166 
MATHURA  DHONDIBA  SALVE  ....  346 


INTRODUCTION 

Childhood  and  Girlhood 


Mary  E.  Stearns 

Childhood  and  Girlhood 

AMONG  the  hills  of  southern  New  Hampshire 
there  is  a  little  village  called  Mont  Vernon. 
It  is  on  top  of  a  high  ridge,  bared  here  and 
there  in  unexpected  places,  with  a  view  of  forty 
miles  in  every  direction.  The  one  long  road  is 
bordered  with  old-fashioned  houses,  and  over- 
shadowed by  tall  trees.  Here  and  there  are 
open  spaces,  rocky  pastures,  apple-orchards, 
and  frequent  little  bright-green  glades,  out- 
lined by  stone  walls.  Deep  pine  woods  crowd 
about  the  town,  with  under-thickets  of  hem- 
lock, laurel  and  high-bush  blueberries,  for 
which  it  is  famous.  It  is  famous,  too,  for  its 
apples,  which  keep  longer  than  those  of  any 
other  place;  perhaps  equally  for  its  Indian 
brook,  the  Quohquinnepassakessananagnog ! 

Winters  in  Mont  Vernon  are  long  and  se- 
vere. There  are  stories  of  sleighing  parties  on 
May-day  in  the  olden  time.  But  in  summer 
it  is  the  home  of  birds  with  highly  burnished 

[3] 


INTRODUCTION 

treble  voices,  and  of  wild,  timid  creatures  of 
many  kinds,  for  there  is,  even  yet,  no  railroad 
near. 

One  still  conies  to  Mont  Vernon  in  an  old, 
yellow  stage-coach,  \\huli  st.nts  from  the 
tinn  .it  Milford,  five  miles  away.  The  road 
\\inds  through  mcadous  imirvk-d  by  dark 
woods  where  deer  are  frequently  seen,  skirts 
a  clear  mill-pond  in  a  hollow  of  the  hills,  and 
then  plunges  into  the  woods.  Suddenly,  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  the  centre  of  Mont  Vernon, 
it  confronts  the  "long  hill."  When  the  horses 
stop  on  a  thank-you-ma'am,  at  a  cross-roads 
about  half-way  up  this  hill,  a  sign  points  toward 
"Purgatory"  on  the  left,  and  toward  "Am- 
lu  rst,"  two  and  a  half  miles  distant  on  the 
right.  If  one  turned  to  the  left  and  passed  an 
old  farmhouse,  one  would  see,  at  the  end  of  a 
double  row  of  giant  maples,  a  cellar  all  over- 
grown with  brambles  and  lilac  bushes.  A  little 
lane  wanders  up  the  hill  behind,  edged  by  thick- 
ets and  stone  walls.  Near  by  a  brook  comes 
out  of  the  woods,  skims  across  the  ledges,  and 
tumbles  down  into  a  fairy  glen.  Across  the 
road  there  is  a  direct  fall  to  more  woods.  The 
whole  world  seems  spread  out  beyond !  The 

[4] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

• 
air  is  full  of  pine  smells,  and  the  sound  of  high 

bird-songs  and  water  falling.  This  was  the 
childhood  home  of  Mrs.  Stearns. 

Mary  Emmeline  Kittredge  was  born  in 
Mont  Vernon  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  1834. 
Her  father  was  Captain  Timothy  Kittredge, 
a  title  received  as  an  officer  in  the  militia  during 
the  War  of  1812.  He  had  taught  school,  but 
had  become  later  a  farmer,  and  was  an  active, 
high-minded,  deeply  religious  man.  Every 
Sunday  two  carriage-loads  went  to  church 
from  his  house,  one  a  wagon,  the  other  a  rock- 
away,  referred  to  in  the  local  History  as  the 
"toniest  vehicle  in  town."  As  for  himself,  he 
never  missed  but  one  service  at  the  white  meet- 
ing-house on  the  hill.  On  that  occasion  the 
entire  congregation  adjourned  to  his  house 
after  the  service,  to  find  out  what  the  matter 
was! 

Mrs.  Kittredge  was  a  remarkable  woman. 
Tradition  has  it  that  several  of  her  ancestors  set 
out  on  foot  from  their  comfortable  Massachu- 
setts homes  for  the  New  Hampshire  wilderness. 
One  of  them,  a  woman,  after  weeks  of  weary 
tramping,  sank  down  at  the  foot  of  a  great 
tree. 

[si 


INTRODUCTION 

• 

44  Will  you  go  back  ?  It  is  not  too  late ! "  said 
her  husband. 

"No,  no,"  she  answered.  44What  a  pri\i- 
lege  to  start  life  from  a  new  beginning  with 
you!" 

The  pioneer  spirit  was  still  alive  in  this  he- 
roic woman's  descendant. 

Mrs.  Kittredge  had  run  away  from  home 
when  a  young  girl  in  order  to  study,  putting 
herself  under  the  protection  of  a  cousin,  who 
was  also  a  clergyman.  She  helped  with  the  care 
of  his  children,  teaching  them  by  a  sort  of 
kindergarten  method  invented  by  herself,  and 
which  she  used  successfully  with  her  own  chil- 
dren later  on.  One  of  her  Mont  Vernon  friends, 
now  more  than  ninety  years  old,  recalls  that 
Mrs.  Kittredge  was  the  first  one  to  use  the 
abacus  for  instructing  small  children.  When 
the  Froebel  system  was  coming  into  vogue, 
Mrs.  Kittredge  went  to  Boston  for  the  purpose 
of  studying  it.  Her  mother,  too,  had  been  a 
teacher.  There  is  still  a  curious  document  in 
the  family,  which  certifies  that  she  was  quali- 
fied to  teach  and  could  calculate  an  eclipse. 

Mrs.  Kittredge  was  interested  in  all  world 
movements,  and  showed  a  wisdom  and  breadth 
[6] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

of  outlook  remarkable  in  a  person  who  had 
spent  her  life  in  a  far-away  New  England  vil- 
lage. Her  son-in-law  used  to  say  —  many, 
many  years  later  —  that  of  all  the  letters  which 
came  to  him  in  India,  hers  were  of  the  most 
universal  interest.  At  twenty-one  she  had 
married  Captain  Kittredge,  fifteen  years  her 
senior. 

The  ideals  of  her  parents  became  those  of 
little  "  Emmie."  They  were  hers  without  effort. 
They  came  as  naturally  as  the  love  of  country 
lanes  and  meadows.  From  them  she  learned 
that  no  incident  is  without  its  meaning;  that 
deprivations  and  calamities  are  really  oppor- 
tunities for  growth  of  character;  that  suffering 
is  educational,  and  that  every  experience  is 
providentially  sent.  Face  to  face  with  great 
sorrow,  self-discipline  was  not  a  new  idea  to 
her.  When,  at  various  crises,  she  amazed  even 
those  who  knew  her  best  by  her  fortitude  and 
serenity,  they  would  not  have  been  surprised, 
could  they  have  known  for  how  long  a  time 
her  preparation  had  been  going  on !  If  we 
would  understand  the  power  which  carried 
her  through  her  later  life  alone,  calm  and  con- 
tented, that  part  of  her  life  during  which  most 

[7] 


INTRODUCTION 

of  us  knew  her,  then  we  must  look  at  the  long 
reground,"  beginning  with  In  r  upward-gaz- 
ing childhood.  From  her  earliest  years  gradual, 
steady,  progressive  growth  of  character  was 
her  purpose,  —  growth  which  produces  aston- 
ishing power  late  in  life,  unlike  the  dazzling 
genius  which  manifests  itsrlf  in  \  c  ry  early 
years. 

Many  household  duties  must  be  performed, 
and  four  younger  brothers  and  sisters  taken 
care  of.  The  schools  in  Mont  Vernon  were  an 
u  ncertain  quantity.  Being  much  older  than  the 
others,  Emmie  helped  with  their  instruction. 
To  quote  her  words :  "  My  own  mother's  way 
.  .  .  was  to  have  us  learn  to  read  at  five. 
When  once  we  had  commenced,  she  never 
allowed  us  to  relax,  except  for  a  vacation. 
When  there  was  no  school  in  the  place,  she 
would  direct  our  studies  herself,  sometimes 
asking  the  children  of  the  neighbourhood  to 
join  us  in  a  spelling  class  .  .  .  that  we  might 
not  lose  our  interest." 

And  so  she  had,  from  the  first,  the  privilege, 
to  her  a  joyous  one,  of  being  useful.  Her  gaze 
was  always  directed  out  and  not  in,  and  her 
personality  her  greatest  capital  through  life, 

[8] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

was  already  forming.  She  realized  that  she 
alone  was  responsible  for  her  conduct,  and 
never  felt  it  necessary  to  assume  the  weak- 
nesses characteristic  of  any  age  —  whether  of 
youth  or  middle  life.  Even  as  a  girl  she  was 
not  thoughtless  or  frivolous.  Besides,  was  not 
all  in  the  earth  and  sky — green  fields  and  bird- 
songs,  pure  country  air  and  the  individuality 
of  the  seasons  —  her  friend,  to  last  as  a  real 
influence  through  life  ?  To  have  gained  a  love 
of  high  ideals  within  and  a  love  of  nature 
without, —  what  could  be  a  more  fortunate 
childhood,  or  a  more  competent  equipment 
for  life? 

Mrs.  Kittredge  saw  in  her  serious,  care- 
taking  daughter  that  curious  quality  which 
elicits  deference  from  complete  strangers. 
She  realized  that  Emmie  ought  to  have  the 
advantage  of  a  more  extensive  education  than 
her  little  hill-town  could  afford.  Her  sister, 
Mrs.  Dimick,  for  whom  Emmie  was  named, 
lived  in  Cambridgeport,  Massachusetts.  She, 
too,  was  impressed  with  the  dark-eyed  girl, 
who  had  the  knack  of  making  people  happy 
wherever  she  went.  Upon  her  asking  Emmie 
to  come  and  stay  with  her,  and  go  to  school, 

[9] 


KODUCTION 

the  young   girl  left  M  mon   for  Cam- 

bridge, it-turning  to  the  hills  in  vacation  time 
—  glorious  summer  months  in  tin  fields,  with 
I'M  Js  and  flowers  and  her  little  brothers  and 
sisters,  who  eagerly  waited  the  return  of  their 
sweet-voiced  sister. 

\\ith  that  characteristic  whole-hearted nrxs 
which  made  her  throw  herself  into  the  life  of 
the  place  where  she  happened  to  be  as  if  that 
were  the  only  life  of  interest  to  her,  she  found 
Cambridge  school-days  all-absorbing.  She  de- 
lighted in  her  studies,  and  as  long  as  she  lived 
liked  to  recall  certain  lectures  that  Professor 
Agassiz  gave  to  the  High  School  pupils  on 
n.irural  history  —  and  one  in  particular,  called 
"The  Character  and  Personality  of  the  Creator, 
as  revealed  in  the  Organic  World."  Quickly 
adapting  herself  to  the  life  of  the  large  town, 
she  perceived  instinctively  which  of  her  < 
gifts  could  be  of  use  in  the  new  community. 
It  was  not  long  before  she  was  singing  in  the 
choir  of  the  Prospect  Street  Church,  where  her 
aunt  took  her  every  Sunday,  and  whose  pastor 
was  the  Reverend  William  A.  Stearns,  D.  D. 
His  eldest  son,  William,  of  about  Emmie's  age, 
was  one  of  her  schoolmates. 

[    '0] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

During  their  school-days  they  were  the  best 
of  friends.  In  his  own  words:  "We  walk  to 
singing  school  together  and  home  from  evening 
meeting,  and  when  Em  stops  to  rehearse  at 
noon  and  has  to  walk  home,  somehow  or  other 
I  always  happen  .  .  .  to  be  in  the  front  yard, 
and  wonderful  to  relate,  again  happen  to  look 
up  just  as  Miss  Kittredge  gets  opposite  the  gate, 
and  am  very  much  astonished  indeed  to  see 
who  it  is !  And  then,  somehow  or  other,  in  a 
most  unaccountable  manner,  [I  am]  just  pass- 
ing the  church  Saturday  night  when  the  choir 
get  through  singing,  and  as  Em  is  going  my 
way,  volunteer  to  accompany  her!" 

By  nature  they  were  strangely  opposite. 
There  was  a  quiet  dignity  and  reserve  about 
her.  His  playfulness  —  "  ridiculous  capers,"  he 
called  it  —  and  sunny  disposition  made  him  a 
universal  favourite.  He  was  full  of  the  joy  of 
life,  confident  of  the  uprightness  of  men  in 
general,  and  of  his  own  bright  future.  He  had 
a  strong  spirit  of  adventure.  When  he  was 
only  sixteen  he  had  begged  his  father  to  let  him 
seek  his  fortune  in  India. 

They  contrasted  in  appearance  as  well.  Em- 
mie, although  a  noticeably  fine-looking  girl,  — 


INTRODUCTION 

"elegant"  was  Will's  adjective  for  her, - 
would  not  have  been  called  handsome.  He 
was  extremely  so,  with  a  finely  cut  nose  and 
perfect  teeth.  She  was  dark  and  rather  pale. 
He  had  reddish  hair  and  brilliant  colour.  He 
was  six  feet  tall,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and 
radiant  with  health.  It  is  remarkable  to  see 
together  so  perfect  a  face  and  so  superb  a 
physique.  He  was  attracted  by  her  depth  of 
nature.  She  was  fascinated  by  a  sort  of  roman- 
tic interest  in  the  handsome  boy,  so  gloriously 
dissatisfied  with  a  peaceful,  comfortable  life 
in  Cambridge. 

In  one  thing,  however,  they  agreed  from  the 
first,  —  their  religious  feeling.  They  did  not 
reserve  religion  as  a  solace  for  some  remote 
contingency,  —  a  sort  of  last  resort,  when 
their  own  resources  had  failed.  It  was,  on 
the  contrary,  a  practical  necessity  of  every-d ay 
living.  They  believed  that  God  was  interested 
in  their  individual  welfare,  —  in  a  "  detailed 
Providence."  This  conviction  was  the  source 
of  their  motives,  gave  them  enthusiasm  and 
courage,  and,  in  the  last  analysis,  was  the  in- 
spiration of  every  act.  They  continually  spoke 
of  it  to  each  other.  For  those  who  feel  that  a 

[    12] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

person's  religion  is  for  himself  alone,  that  no 
one  else  has  a  right  to  know  the  deepest  feel- 
ings of  his  heart,  the  point  of  view  of  Will 
Stearns  and  Emmie  Kittredge  may  be  hard 
to  understand.  Before  she  was  twenty  she 
had  said :  "  Religion  does  not  do  much  good 
if  we  keep  it  to  ourselves.  By  our  silence  we 
may  hinder  others  from  making  a  right  de- 
cision." It  was  a  matter  of  conviction  to  them 
both  that  if  God  was  in  their  lives,  "in  their 
thoughts,  feelings,  purposes  and  achievements, 
He  would  necessarily  be  in  their  words."  The 
fact  that  religion  was  more  discussed  then  than 
now,  that  what  one  believed  was  a  matter  of 
general  inquiry,  cannot  wholly  explain  their 
attitude. 

Emmie  graduated  from  the  Cambridge  High 
School  in  1853  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and 
returned  to  her  parents  in  Mont  Vernon.  Her 
time  was  to  be  occupied  with  caring  for  the 
children,  and  a  few  music  pupils.  What  a  pic- 
ture she  draws  of  herself  as  she  "  bounded  down 
the  hill  with  light  heart  and  elastic  step,"  when 
a  letter  came  from  Will!  She  had  hardly 
reached  home  when  he  began  to  urge  her  to 
come  and  study  French  in  Cambridge.  She 

[13] 


INTRODUCTION 

n't  know  of  hmv  miuli  t  would 

be  to  her  in  her  after  life!  Besides,  his  fatlu  i 
\\.is  on  the  sihool  board  and  could  get  her  a 
position  to  teach  in  the  High  School,  if  she 
\\ishrd.  It  would  IK-  far  preferable  to  taking 
music  scholars  in  Mont  Vernon.  Did  n't  she 
think  so  ? 

I  Yrhaps  she  did,  for  she  wrote  him  :  "I  ac- 
knowledge that  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  sit 
and  think  for  a  long  time  of  Cambridge.  Am 
I  not  foolish  ?  But  tears  will  sometimes  come, 
in  spite  of  every  effort  to  restrain  them.  . 
There  is  something  in  the  very  name  of  Cam- 
bridge that  excites  emotions  I  cannot  describe, 
there  are  so  many  things  I  love  there." 

He,  meanwhile,  remained  in  Boston.  He 
had  entered  the  employ  of  Messrs.  Weld  and 
Minot.  They  owned  many  ships  that  brought 
queer  things  from  far-off  lands.  "Come,"  he 
would  urge  his  friends,  "come!  I  am  ex- 
pecting a  ship  full  of  curiosities  from  Cal- 
cutta." The  things  they  brought,  and  the  life 
which  the  captains  described  to  him,  continued 
to  draw  him  more  than  ever  toward  the  distant 
Orient. 

"He  was  accustomed  during  this  time  to 

[  u] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

walk  in  and  out  of  Boston,  a  distance  of  two 
and  one  half  miles  each  way,  keeping  in  his 
pocket  the  omnibus  tickets  for  emergencies  .  .  . 
and  coming  home  at  night  still  fresh  and 
strong  and  not  infrequently  whistling  and 
singing  as  he  came."  He  amused  himself 
"  committing  pieces  of  poetry  to  memory  and 
repeating  them  on  these  .  .  .  often  solitary 
walks." 

Before  long  it  was  decided  that  Emmie 
should  return  to  her  beloved  Cambridge,  to 
teach  in  the  same  school  where  she  had  so  re- 
cently been  a  pupil.  This  experience,  as  well 
as  others,  was  not  without  use  to  her  in  later 
life. 

In  the  fall  of  1854  she  began  her  work  as 
"general  assistant"  in  the  English  course  of 
the  Cambridge  High  School,  at  a  salary  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year! 

The  School  Committee  report  says:  "Miss 
Kittredge  is  a  graduate  of  the  school,  and  while 
connected  with  it  occupied  a  high  rank  as  a 
scholar.  She  manifests  much  skill  and  tact  in 
conducting  her  recitations,  and  will  attain  emi- 
nence in  her  profession."  For  the  first  half- 
year  she  taught  algebra,  geometry,  and  some  ad- 

[is] 


INTRODUCTION 

v.mced  French,  —  that  of  the  in  the 

1  Mulish    course;  and    the    second    half-year, 
geography,  history,  and  Scott's  "Marn 
or  "  Lady  of  the  Lake." 

Mr.  William  F.  Bradbury,  who  was,  \vlu  n 
Miss  Kittrtilgc  taught  there,  the  newly  ap- 
pointed sub-master,  recalls  her  as  "a  fine 
looking,  cultivated  lady,  whom  one  would  no- 
tice anywhere."  As  a  teacher  she  was  very  pop- 
ular, he  remembers.  Every  morning  in  school 
there  was  singing,  without  instruments,  by  the 
scholars.  Miss  Kittredge's  high,  lovely  voice 
led  all  the  rest. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Bradbury  added,  "she  was 
genial,  bright,  amiable,  everything  that  one 
could  wish."  He  also  said  that  he  drove 
thirteen  miles  to  Mont  Vernon  and  back  over 
the  New  Hampshire  hills  one  day,  merely  to 
call  upon  her,  "so  you  can  see  how  nice  she 
was!" 

Some  verses  have  been  found,  signed  by 
William  Winter,  and  addressed  to  Emmeline 
Kittredge.  They  were  written  on  the  sixth  of 
February,  1855,  when  their  author  was  a  stu- 
dent at  the  Harvard  Law  School. 

[  16] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

TO  EMMA 

If  unto  thee  a  nobler,  purer  soul 
Could  light  new  graces  on  thy  beaming  brow, 
'T  would  not  avail,  when  we  have  said  the  whole, 
To  make  us  love  thee  more  than  we  do  now. 

God  bless  thee,  Emma!    I  have  known  but  few 
Who,  for  their  gentle  worth  and  purity, 
Might  claim  a  fond  affection  as  their  due. 
But  thou  art  one;  and  I  award  it  thee! 

Teaching  duties  did  not  entirely  fill  her  life. 
There  is  a  tradition  of  a  "  dashing  southerner," 
who  drove  about  with  very  fast  horses.  He 
was  a  Harvard  student,  the  pet  of  Cambridge 
society,  and  extremely  handsome.  Much  to  the 
envy  of  all  the  girls,  it  was  Emmie  Kittredge 
whom  he  used  to  invite  to  drive,  and  his  habit 
of  offering  his  carnage  ended  by  his  offering 
himself! 

Another  young  person  was  so  persistent  that 
she  was  greatly  troubled.  He  pictured  to  her 
what  her  life  would  be  if  she  married  him : 
her  freedom  from  care,  the  beautiful  house  she 
should  live  in,  the  servants  and  carriages  she 
should  have.  One  day  —  toward  the  last  — 
he  told  her  she  might  have  his  whole  fortune 

[17] 


INTRODUCTION 

to  devote  to  missions!   Canny  man!   We  may 
imagine  the  momentary  temptation,  for  even 
in  those  early  days   hn    mt<  n-st  in  missions 
was  deeply  established.   She  went  to  her  pa 
to  ask  him  \\liat   to  do.     Or     S  teams  said: 
"  I  inmie,  do  you  love  him  :  "       "N-n-no." 
"Then  I  have  no  more  to  say."   And  she  went 
away,  light-hearted. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  neither  of  them  ap- 
proved of  early  engagements,  and  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  they  were  both  just  twenty,  it  was 
in  this  eventful  winter  that  Will  Stearns  and 
Emmie  Kittredge  became  engaged.  His  life, 
through  his  letters,  was  as  much  hers  in  his  ab- 
sence as  in  his  presence.  It  is  hard,  from  this 
time,  to  separate  their  interests. 

During  this  same  winter,  1854-55,  the 
Stearns  family  moved  from  Cambridge  to 
Amherst,  as  Dr.  Stearns  had  been  elected  presi- 
dent of  the  college.  The  spring  brought  them 
all  great  sadness  in  the  serious  illness  of  Mrs. 
Stearns.  Longing  to  help  his  mother.  Will 
wrote  her:  "O  mother,  don't  feel  that  God  has 
forgotten  you.  What!  He  who  has  formed  the 
smallest  atom  of  sand  and  the  dust,  living 
objects  so  small  that  the  microscope  only  can 

[  18] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

reveal  their  vitality,  He  forget  one  of  those 
whom  He  has  called  the  noblest  of  all  His 
works  ?  No,  never.  .  .  .  Every  one  sends  love 
to  you,  including  your  daughter  Emmie  (I 
hope  sometime)." 

At  midsummer  Mrs.  Stearns  died.  Her  loss 
was  an  inconceivable  blow  to  Will.  He  longed 
more  than  ever  to  get  away  from  home  and  try 
his  fortune.  It  was  not,  however,  until  Janu- 
ary, 1857,  when  he  was  twenty-two  years  old, 
that  he  decided  to  go  at  last  to  India.  As  he 
expected  to  be  gone  an  indefinite  number  of 
years,  he  could  not  go  alone.  Emmie  must 
come  too.  With  her  usual  unerring  judgment 
she  refused.  She  knew  she  would  cramp  him. 
She  felt  that  they  were  so  young  they  could 
easily  wait  —  ten  years  if  need  be.  Finally  he 
admitted  that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  be 
fully  established  before  marrying.  His  business 
arrangements  were  completed,  various  Boston 
merchants  assuring  him  that  they  would  give 
him  sufficient  consignments  for  beginning  busi- 
ness when  he  should  reach  India,  and  the  day 
was  set  for  his  leave-taking. 

Mr.  Stearns  shipped  as  super-cargo  for  Cal- 
cutta in  the  sailing  ship  Alma,  leaving  New 

[  '9] 


INTRODUCTION 

York  on  the  fifteenth  of  April,  1857.  He  spent 
hisdavsstmh  ing  Spanish  and  Hindustani,  read- 
ing, playing  checkers,  and  "selling."  Of  the 
things  he  had  to  eat  one  may  form  an  opin 
after  this  characteristic  remark:  "I  put  w< inn- 
wood  into  the  water  to  make  it  palatable." 
Still,  there  were  the  tropical  sunsets  and  a 
new  night-time  sky.  "'I  he  Southern  I 
looks  down  smilingly  upon  you,"  he  wrote. 
"Orion  has  nearly  left  us,  and  the  Great  Bear 
will  soon  follow.  They  still  look  upon  us,  peer- 
ing at  us  with  their  great  brilliant  eyes;  seem- 
ingly they  offer  to  take  back  to  the  loved  ones 
at  home  one  last  message, —  soon  they  will  be 
gone.  They  will  follow  the  North  Star,  which 
went  out  some  days  ago,  and  the  last  connect- 
ing link  between  us  and  home  will  be  broken." 
In  July  the  Alma  reached  Buenos  Ayres. 
He  sent  a  letter  home  from  there,  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  July,  1857. 

"Mr.  L.  and  I  walked  to  San  Fernando,  a 
distance  of  twenty-one  miles,  then  walked  all 
over  the  town,  and,  after  seeing  the  sunset, 
started  and  walked  back  to  Buenos  Ayres, 
which  we  reached  at  eleven  P.  M.,  making  the 
[20] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

whole  distance,  including  two  hours'  stopping, 
in  just  twelve  hours !  In  other  words  we  walked 
forty-two  miles  in  ten  hours !  .  .  .  Remember 
this,  the  roads  are  very  muddy,  .  .  .  and 
quite  a  number  of  times  I  went  into  the  mud 
more  than  half-way  up  to  my  knees.  .  .  .  We 
were  attacked  by  these  fellows  [dogs]  more  than 
a  dozen  different  times.  ...  I  had  a  good 
sword-cane  which  I  drew  on  them  at  least 
twenty  times.  .  .  .  But  dogs  are  not  the  worst 
things  to  be  encountered.  There  are  wandering 
'gouchers'  whose  business  it  is  to  ...  keep  the 
vast  herds  of  horses  in  the  country.  They  are 
always  on  horseback  and  ride  like  the  wind. 
Many  of  them  are  the  worst  kind  of  robbers. 
We  passed  a  great  many  of  them  on  the  road, 
and  at  one  time  we  expected  to  have  a  little  bit 
of  sport.  It  was  a  dark,  wild-looking  spot,  with 
the  smooth,  level  unchanging  pampa  spreading 
out  on  all  sides  of  us,  —  just  the  place  for  their 
wild  work.  We  had  just  been  speaking  to- 
gether about  them,  when  we  caught  the  sound 
of  horses'  steps,  and  in  a  moment  five  horses 
with  two  gouchers  on  each  horse  came  rushing 
down  upon  us.  Shouting  and  yelling,  they 
made  straight  for  us.  I  jumped  up  on  one  side 

[21    ] 


INTRODUCTION 

of  the  road  and  L.  on  the  other;  the  gouchers 
rushed  between  us  with  three  of  the  In  i 
Just  as  they  were  close  to  us  I  saw  one  raise  Im 
arms  over  my  head.  1  thought  for  a  monunr 
that  I  had  got  to  feel  the  lassoo  —  but  away 
they  went." 

This  was  not  the  only  narrow  escape  of  the 
voyage,  by  any  means.  Off  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  the  Alma  nearly  capsized  in  a  heavy 
squall,  and  she  came  up  the  Bay  of  Bengal  be- 
tueen  two  typhoons!  Will's  "lucky  star"  pre- 
served him  safe  and  sound,  however,  and  on 
the  ninth  of  November,  1857,  his  twenty-third 
birthday,  he  landed  in  Calcutta.  He  procured 
at  once  a  horse  and  buggy,  a  syct,  —  groom,  — 
and  a  kitmutgar,  —  boy,  —  to  wait  upon  him 
at  meals  and  take  care  of  his  clothes.  He  was 
aghast  at  the  "glorious  tropical  verdure,"  at 
the  elephants  and  jackals  and  great  "adju- 
tants," at  the  bedlam  of  oriental  tongues,  and 
the  crowds  —  one  hundred  thousand  persons 
came  to  see  one  review  of  troops ! 

Meanwhile,  having  twice  been  reappointed 
at  the  High  School,  and  her  salary  raised  to 
four  hundred  dollars  for  the  year  1856-57,  at 
[22] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

the  end  of  the  school  year,  as  the  report  of 
the  School  Committee  says,  "Miss  Kittredge 
resigned,  with  universal  regret."  She  returned 
to  Mont  Vernon. 

The  pain  of  the  separation  from  Will  ab- 
sorbed her.  Letters  from  both  are  so  full  of 
this  all-important  subject  that  what  they  did, 
apart,  has  little  importance.  The  fear  of  a  thou- 
sand possible  accidents  weighed  upon  her. 
Having  been  run  away  with  down  the  long  hill 
of  Mont  Vernon,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  letter  to 
him,  written  on  the  fourth  of  October,  1857: 
"The  uncertainties  of  life  strike  me  almost 
with  dread.  I  hardly  dare  love  anything  lest 
it  be  snatched  from  me,  yet  my  heart  will  love, 
and  you  know  well  the  object  it  clings  to  most 
fondly  here  on  earth.  .  .  .  Although  little  things 
make  me  unhappy,  equally  as  little  things  of 
opposite  character  make  me  happy.  I  have 
.  .  .  felt  myself  so  unfitted  to  bear  the  trials 
of  the  world !  But  I  think  its  experiences  are 
having  their  effect  to  make  me  stronger,  and 
I  trust  that  I  may  yet  improve  very  much  in 
this  respect.  Life  is  no  holiday,  but  a  stern 
reality,  and  I  trust  I  may  be  fitted  for  all  its 
duties." 

[23] 


INTRODUCTION 

Conscientious  in  all  her  occupations  at  home, 
her  life  was  with  Will  in  India. 

In  Calcutta,  he  heard  rumours  of  the  great 
financial  panic  in  Arm-ru.i.  though  his  own 
letters  had  been  sent  to  await  his  arri\al  in 
Bombay.  Somewhat  disquieted,  he  W*» 
only  long  enough  to  help  load  several  ships 
for  England  and  America,  including  the  Alma, 
in  which  he  had  made  the  voyage,  to  sail  from 
Calcutta,  the  "city  of  palaces,"  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  February,  1858.  From  Bombay,  a 
few  weeks  later,  he  wrote,  "I  came  mighty 
near  arriving  here  on  April  Fool's  Day,  but 
just  escaped  it  by  twenty-four  hours  1  he 

harbour  is  large,  .  .  .  studded  with  islands 
and  rocks,  among  which  ...  is  an  old  Hindu 
ruin.  .  .  .  There  are  plenty  of  hills  that  make 
the  background.  .  .  .  You  can  see  the  Western 
Ghauts,  a  chain  of  mountains.  ...  I  am  liv- 
ing on  board  ship  till  the  rains  set  in.  ... 
Up-countrymen  crowd  the  streets,  Persians, 
Armenians,  Jews,  Afghans,  Sikhs,  men  from 
Cashmere  and  Cabul,  Arabs,  Hindus  and 
Musulmans,  all  colours,  from  the  light  Cash- 
merian  to  the  black  Muscatine."  Later,  in 
describing  some  women,  hired  mourners  at  a 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

funeral,  he  said,  they  wear  "silver  anklets  of 
one  pound  each,  gold  and  silver  bracelets, 
earrings  of  gold  and  pearls  and  precious  stones, 
and  a  great  nose-ring,  three  or  four  inches  in 
diameter.  .  .  .  They  wear  a  long  piece  of 
silk  wound  around  them,  and  up  over  the 
head." 

But  his  heart  was  full  of  his  love  for  Emmie, 
and  of  sadness  at  the  separation  from  her. 
One  letter,  filled  with  reminiscence,  goes  over 
each  stage  of  their  happiness. 

.  .  .  "And  then  the  first  letter,  whew! 
You  could  not  have  dreamed  of  such  happi- 
ness, .  .  .  and  the  letter  and  the  walk  through 
the  Hoveys'  nursery,  I  suppose  on  account 
of  the  beautiful  trees  and  flowers,  —  though, 
faith,  it  was  the  dead  of  winter;  —  and  then 
long  days  of  happiness  without  a  cloud,  till  the 
word  came  that  I  must  go  ...  for  many  a 
long  week  and  month  out  upon  the  broad 
ocean  and  into  far-off  lands.  .  .  . 

"  The  future,  the  future,  I  try  to  look  into  it, 
to  the  time  when  we  shall  be  old  and  gray, 
.  .  .  but  who  can  tell  the  end  ?  ...  Be  strong 
and  remember  He  says :  *  If  thou  faintest  in  the 


INTRODUCTION 

day  of  adversity.  tin  strength  is  small  '    I  have 
.uloptetl  this  sentence  lor  my  help,  and  ov 
I  think  ot  it  when  the  big  black  clouds  b< 
to  make.  .  .  .  Dearest  Emmie,  farewell. 

"Wai 

As  to  his  business,  on  which  depended  tht  ir 
separation  or  their  marriage,  no  clearer  descrip- 
tion of  what  happened  could  be  given  than  that 
writtt-n  to  his  father  in  April,  1863,  by  Mr. 
Stearns  himself.  "  Five  years  ago  to-day  I  ar- 
rived in  Bombay.  .  .  .  Full  of  hope,  faith,  and 
confidence,  I  set  foot  on  these  shores.  A  hope 
that  the  future,  so  pregnant  with  blessings  for 
those  who  proved  themselves  deserving,  \\ould 
grant  me  at  least  a  smile,  ...  a  faith  that  the 
promises  which  so  freely  fell  from  the  lips  of 
men  whom  I  had  been  led  to  believe  were  true 
men,  would  at  least  in  part  be  fulfilled,  —  a 
confidence,  that  in  time  I  should  be  able  to 
prove  myself  equal  to  any  occasion  which  might 
arise  out  of  my  then  unexplored  business  ca- 
reer. Well,  I  came  to  Bombay,  and  rushed  on 
shore  to  open  the  scores  of  letters  which  had 
so  long  been  awaiting  my  arrival.  Letters 
teeming  with  credits,  bills  of  lading,  invoices 

[26] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

of  goods  on  the  way  to  Bombay  and  orders  for 
the  future,  and  I  found  —  not  one !  It  was 
cruel,  and  my  heart  sank  within  me.  I  had  a 
few  rupees  left  from  my  Calcutta  earnings  .  .  . 
and  with  these  I  was  to  exist,  to  open  my  office, 
and  carry  on  its  expenses."  .  .  . 

He  went  to  the  Mission  House  to  stay — 
till  something  should  turn  up  —  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Harding,  whose  entire  family  became 
later  the  warm  friends  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  wrote,  "  I  should  have  come 
direct  home,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that 
every  one  prophesied  I  would." 

He  spent  his  time  learning  to  read,  write,  and 
speak  Hindustani,  and  by  the  last  of  June,  he 
mentions  wanting  letters  in  Hindustani.  "I 
am  studying  hard  to  get  hold  of  this  jaw- 
breaking  language.  .  .  .  The  idioms  are,  I 
believe,  without  a  parallel  in  any  tongue.  Here 
is  one:  'He  tore  the  collar  of  his  patience,' 
for  'he  became  impatient.'  Their  names  too 
are  frightful — Lowjee,  Pestonjee,  Jamsetjee 
Jeejeebhoy. 

"The  alphabet  is  nearly  identical  with  the 
Hebrew  and  gives  one  the  same  insight  into 
that,  as  well  as  the  Arabic,  Persian,  and  San- 

[27] 


INTRODUCTION 

skur.  that  Latin  gives  to  the  modern  Kuro- 
pean  languages.  ...  As  for  getting  discour- 
aged, why  sometimes  the  road  looks  long,  but 
the  idea  of  giving  up  has  not  once  entered  my 
head.  The  stairs  may  fail  to  enable  me  to 
reach  the  top,  but  the  ladder  is  K-t'r,  .m<l  if  that 
breaks,  \\lu  -I'll  climb  up  the  bare  pole. 
To  be  sure  one  slips  oftener  by  the  latter  way 
of  travel,  but  if  he  sacks  to  it  he  will  come  out 
all  right." 

In  spite  of  all  discouragements,  the  firm  of 
W.  F.  Stearns  and  Company,  General  Com- 
mission Agents,  was  established  in  Bombay, 
on  the  first  of  July,  1858,  three  months  after  Mr. 
Stearns's  arrival  there.  Their  business  dealt 
with  cotton  and  East  India  goods,  chiefly  with 
London.  His  plan,  he  wrote,  "is  to  stick  to 
it  till  I  have  either  not  a  red  copper  left,  or 
am  able  to  come  home  and  say,  '  I  've  done  it.' 
...  I  shall  be  a  successful  commission  mer- 
chant before  I  attempt  anything  else.  .  .  .  The 
gentleman  whose  name  is  associated  with 
mine,  Byramjee  Dadabhoy,  is  a  Parsee  of 
great  wealth." 

Mr.  Stearns  had  just  decided  to  take  into 
the  firm  a  young  Mr.  Hooper  of  Boston,  when 

[28] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

Mr.  Hooper  became  ill  after  a  month  of  the 
Bombay  climate,  and  returned  to  America. 
On  the  first  of  September,  1858,  Mr.  Stearns 
took  in  Mr.  Healey,  also  of  Boston,  who  had 
arrived  a  month  before,  and  with  whom  he 
was  associated  for  several  years. 

In  October  Mr.  Stearns,  with  Mr.  Healey, 
took  a  bungalow  in  Colaba,  a  part  of  Bombay. 
His  description  of  it  follows. 

"  PARADISE  BUNGALOW,  BOMBAY, 

November  7,  1858. 

..."  I  never  knew  before  what  living  in  In- 
dia was.  It  is  a  real  little  fairy-land.  We  have 
a  large  compound  full  of  trees,  flowers,  butter- 
flies and  birds.  All  the  tropical  plants  that  you 
read  of,  seem  growing  here:  gigantic  lilies, 
mammoth  oleanders,  banana,  mango,  cedar 
and  guava,  tamarind  and  cocoa  trees,  butter- 
flies whose  gaily  coloured  wings  might  rival  the 
rainbow  in  beauty,  birds  whose  sweetest  songs 
are  poured  forth  as  from  one  great  aviary; 
and  such  mellow,  heavenly  music  —  why,  I 
have  been  enchanted  ever  since  coming  here! 
.  .  .  Besides  this,  the  house  itself  is  very  pretty, 


INTRODUCTION 

exceedingly  comfortable,  and  delightfully  situ- 
ated. The  land  runs  out  in  something  like  this 
form  from  the  Fort,  or  Bombay  proper 
[with  a  sketch  of  the  bay,  Malabar  Hill 
one  side  and  Col  aba  on  the  opposite,  the  Es- 
planade between].  Thus  you  will  see  that  we 
are  in  a  most  delightfully  cool  place,  having 
the  full  sweep  of  the  sea  breeze.  At  high  tide 
I  can  stand  on  one  shore  and  throw  a  stone 
across  to  the  other  side.  Don't  think,  how- 
ever, that  it  is  no  distance,  for  you  must  re- 
member, that  there  are  few  persons  that  can 
throw  a  stone  so  far  as  I.  [Here  follows  a  sketch 
of  the  house  and  geometrically  laid-out  gar- 
dens, drives  and  servants'  quarters.]  The 
rooms  are  large,  high-studded,  and  well  venti- 
lated. It  is  a  one-storied  house,  as  indeed  nearly 
all  the  houses  in  Bombay  are.  .  .  .  The  ser- 
vants, six  or  seven  of  them,  black  by  nature, 
red-turbaned,  white  kupratd  and  bare-legged, 
are  flitting  about  like  ghosts  of  darkness.  .  .  . 
One  speaks  Marathi,  one  Hindustani,  one 
Gujerathi,  and  one  no  language  at  all.  ...  In 
the  early  morning  the  butler  stands  ready  with 
a  cup  of  tea,  some  bread  and  butter  and  plan- 
tains, and  you  eat  and  drink.  At  half-past 

[30] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

eight  come  curry  and  rice,  fish  and  rice,  liver 
and  rice,  eggs,  cold  fowl,  cold  bread  and  hot 
coffee.  .  .  .  For  the  big  dinner,  or  hurra  khana, 
we  have  soup,  roast,  curry  and  rice,  plum- 
pudding,  bananas,  custard-apples,  coffee  and 
cheroots.  I  am  sort  of  head  of  the  house  and 
have  to  order.  It's  a  nuisance.  .  .  . 

"  Listen,  while  I  make  your  mouth  water. 
Bombay  mangos  are  celebrated  all  over  the 
world,  and  in  no  other  place  do  they  grow  to 
such  perfection  as  here.  They  are  from  the 
size  of  a  small  orange  to  that  of  a  very  large 
cocoanut  —  de-li-cious.  Whew !  fancy,  peel 
the  skin  off  and  you  have  a  mass  of  pulp  be- 
fore you,  yellow  as  the  yellowest  peach  you  ever 
saw,  juicy  as  the  juiciest  pear  you  ever  put  your 
teeth  into,  fragrant  as  the  most  delightful 
aroma,  and  the  taste  of  skilfully  mingled  pine- 
apples, cocoanuts,  peaches,  pears,  apples, 
oranges,  lemons,  bananas,  nuts,  etc.  Also 
plantains,  bananas,  pineapples,  guavas,  po- 
melos, figs,  tamarinds,  and  custard-apples.  .  .  . 
It's  worth  coming  to  India  for. 

"You  would  have  laughed  .  .  .  could  you 
have  seen  us  moving.  We  commenced  to  pack 
at  nine  o'clock,  and  at  eleven  the  old  house 

[31  ] 


INTRODUCTION 

was  solitary  and  alone.  .  Y<>u  need  not 
say  we  had  no  furniture  to  move,  for  there 
were  no  less  than  ten  hackeries  or  bullock- 
carts,  and  twenty-two  coolies,  women  and  men. 

1  licse  twenty-two  were  employed  to  carry  the 
glass    and    crockery,    to    prevent    breakage. 

1  liink  of  it!  Three  old  bachelors  employing 
some  dozen  coolie  women  to  help  them  move! 
.  .  .  What  would  we  say  at  home  to  see  some 
dozen  women  marching  down  the  street  in 
solemn  procession  with  baskets,  furniture, « 
etc.,  on  their  heads  ? 

"Since  the  first,  we  had  a  succession  of  holi- 
days. On  that  day  the  proclamation  which 
inaugurated  the  Queen's  government  in  In- 
dia was  read,  and  amid  much  seeming  hilarity 
Queen  Victoria  became  the  acknowledged 
sovereign  of  India.  In  the  evening  all  Bombay 
was  illuminated,  ...  a  splendid  sight.  The 
ramparts  were  covered  with  cocoanut  lamps, 
row  after  row,  and  all  placed  within  two  or 
three  inches  of  each  other.  The  cathedrals, 
churches,  etc.,  from  the  crown  of  the  spire  to 
the  base  were  one  blaze  of  light.  .  .  .  Streets 
were  hung  with  transparencies,  flags,  lights, 
etc.  Sir  Jamsetjee  Jeejeebhoy's  palaces  looked 

[32] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

peculiarly  beautiful.  You  can  judge  of  the 
amount  of  oil  used  when  I  assure  you  that 
Sir  Jamsetjee  alone  had  one  hundred  thousand 
lamps !  Besides  this,  all  the  men-of-war  in  the 
harbour  were  illuminated  from  truck  to  keelson. 
This  sight  was  of  surpassing  beauty.  Flights 
of  rockets  and  roman  candles,  blazing  blue 
lights  or  flashing  fire-works,  with  thundering 
cannon,  together,  made  a  scene  that  pen  can- 
not describe.  .  .  . 

"One  reason  why  such  a  great  show  was 
made  was  on  account  of  the  'Dewallee'  festi- 
val, or  Hindu  new  year,  which  occurs  on  the 
seventh  of  November  this  year  (to-day),  and 
which  is  celebrated  by  illuminations  of  two  or 
three  nights  before  the  close.  In  preparing  for 
the  Queen's  Raj  they  also,  at  a  little  additional 
expense,  got  ready  for  their  annual  riot.  Last 
Friday  night  all  the  native  town  was  ablaze 
with  lights,  equalling  if  not  exceeding  the 
Queen's  celebration.  Most  of  the  natives  kept 
open  house.  I  visited  Ramball's  house,  and 
there  was  so  much  fire  that  the  heat  of  the 
rooms  was  almost  intolerable.  This  is  the 
night  upon  which  the  natives  close  their  account- 
books  for  the  year,  and  with  appropriate 

[33] 


INTRODUCTION 

hcatlu  nisli  ceremonies  open  tin  ir  new  books. 
After  leaving  Ramball's  we  went  along  to  an- 
other friend's  house,  where  we  received  a  dose 
of  rose-water,  a  bunch  of  flowers,  and  a  daub 
of  sandal-wood  oil  upon  the  back  of  the  hand. 
So  strong  is  this  oil  that,  though  two  or  three 
days  have  passed  and  I  have  washed  my  hands 
in  soap  several  times,  I  can  still  detect  the 
smell.  After  leaving  this  place,  we  called  upon 
our  friend,  Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee,  the  native 
doctor.  .  .  .  His  house  and  compound  was 
a  perfect  fairy-land.  On  the  top  was  a  huge 
painting  of  the  Queen,  Prince  Albert,  and 
others,  receiving  the  homage  of  the  native 
princes.  This  was  lighted  from  behind.  .  .  . 
The  house  was  covered  with  lights,  and  the 
garden  walks  lighted  on  each  side  with  frame- 
works of  lamps.  The  prettiest  sight  of  all  was, 
however,  the  cocoanut  trees,  which  had  each 
a  Chinese  lantern,  globe-shaped,  hung  in  the 
top,  looking  more  like  a  huge  illuminated 
cocoanut  than  anything  else.  Another  fine 
sight  was  the  view  from  the  house  of  the  thou- 
sands of  upturned  native  faces,  gazing  upon 
the  scene.  Their  many-coloured  turbans  made 
a  singular  background  for  the  lights  to  flash 

[34] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

upon.  Juggernath  Sunkersett's  house  was  also 
grandly  lighted  up.  .  .  .  What  with  the  birds 
and  flowers  and  noble  trees,  we  easily  scare  up 
an  imaginary  paradise.  It  needs  only  one 
thing  to  complete  its  beauty  ...  to  my  mind 
at  least,  and  what  is  that,  do  you  ask  ?  .  .  . 
Believe  me,  I  have  almost  contemplated  the 
arms  off  my  big  easy-chair  from  only  sitting 
and  musing  upon  the  time  when  I  shall  see 
you  flitting  about  the  rooms.  .  .  .  The  sun, 
who  is  bidding  us  farewell,  is  just  awaking 
birds  with  you." 

On  the  ninth  of  November,  1858,  his  twenty- 
fourth  birthday,  when  he  had  been  in  India 
one  year,  he  wrote  to  his  sister  Eliza:  "Let's 
see;  what  has  the  year  done  for  me  ?  First  and 
foremost,  it  has  made  a  man  of  me.  .  .  .  You 
would  hardly  recognize  the  sober,  sedate  Mr. 
Stearns,  senior  partner  of  the  house  of  W.  F. 
Stearns  &  Company,  as  the  laughing,  jovial 
brother  of  two  years  since.  .  .  .  The  year  has 
equalled  in  experience  to  me  more  than  three 
or  four  at  home  would  have  done.  It  has 
taught  me  self-reliance;  it  has  given  me  an 
insight  into  manners  and  customs;  ...  it 

[35] 


INTRODUCTION 

has  given  my  thinking  faculties  a  scope  for 
action.  .  .  .  On  the  whole,  your  brother  Will 
is  much  more  able  to  tumble  up  than  tumble 
down." 

Fanny,  the  only  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dimick,  died  in  Cambridge  of  tuberculosis 
of  the  lungs  on  the  fifth  of  September,  1858, 
at  the  age  of  eighteen.  Her  death  was  an 
event  highly  significant  to  so  religious  a  girl  as 
Emmie  Kittredge.  "  It  was  to  me,"  she  wrote, 
"a  new  experience,  and  it  has  made  everything 
in  life  seem  changed." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  her  sadness,  the  winter  at 
home  in  Mont  Vernon  was  a  very  happy  one 
for  Emmie.  "The  days  are  too  short,"  she 
said.  "The  snow  is  ten  feet  deep.  I  get  up  at 
four  o'clock  and  read  from  one  to  two  hours 
before  breakfast."  Her  large  music  class  had 
been  given  up  on  account  of  the  "feelings  of 
another  music-teacher."  She  kept  only  three 
little  pupils.  Even  to-day  there  are  memories 
in  Mont  Vernon  of  her  voice  and  her  look  as 
she  sang  in  the  choir,  or  of  her  playing  the 
organ  while  a  poor  half-witted  boy  pumped; 
of  her  leading  in  the  famous  "sings  ";  of  her 
superb,  dark,  almost  Spanish  look,  of  her 

[36] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

striking  grace,  as  she  walked  about  the  village 
draped  in  the  splendid  oriental  shawl  sent  by 
her  lover  in  India.  There  were  seven  hundred 
people  in  Mont  Vernon  in  those  days.  Now 
there  are  four  hundred. 

But  the  secret  of  her  happiness  was  that  Will 
was  coming  home!  Though  he  drew  vivid 
pictures  of  their  meeting,  wondering  whether 
it  would  be  stormy  or  pleasant,  hot  or  cold, 
where  she  would  be  sitting,  or  whether  he 
should  rouse  her  from  sleep,  she  on  her  part 
would  never  plan  their  programme.  She  wrote 
him  on  the  twelfth  of  February,  1859:  — 

"  I  must  tell  you  that  when  I  think  of  you, 
it  is  most  natural  for  me  to  imagine  you  in 
that  big  long  overcoat  you  used  to  wear  so 
much.  I  don't  know  but  that  I  shall  expect 
to  see  you  with  it  on,  even  in  July.  I  can  see 
you  now  putting  it  on  as  you  were  about  to 
start  for  home.  ...  I  should  like  to  see  you 
go  out  of  the  window  as  you  did  one  night  long 
ago." 

And  later,  from  Roxbury,  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  March,  1859:  — 

"I  wish  your  photograph  would  make  its 
appearance  before  I  go  home.  I  long  to  see 

[37] 


INTRODUCTION 

ir,  and  yet  dread  it  lest  you  may  look  changed. 
Isn't  it  funny  that  I  should  feel  so?  If  you 
are  changed  I  shall  be  very  glad  that  you  sent 
it  so  that  I  may  get  accustomed  to  your  looks 
before  we  meet.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  so  much 
changed  that  you  will  not  recognize  me.  What 
would  you  say  to  that  ?  .  .  .  You  caution  me 
against  anticipating  too  much.  I  hope  I  do 
not.  I  am  not  generally  troubled  in  that  way. 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  do  love  our  spring!  I  suppose  you 
will  say  that  to  understand  of  what  nature  is 
capable  I  must  come  to  India.  You  will  talk 
of  beautiful  flowers,  of  splendid  plumage  of 
birds,  etc.  Well,  if  you  do  I  shall  love  our 
spring  better  than  anything  else.  I  wonder  if 
you  see  from  your  window  as  much  beauty  as 
I?" 

In  order  to  make  his  homecoming  a  com- 
plete surprise,  he  wrote  his  sister  that  he 
was  planning  to  go  to  Arabia.  And  further- 
more :  — 

"  I  have  a  grand  opportunity  to  go  to  the 
coast  of  Africa  — Zanzibar  —  but  cannot  spend 
the  time.  .  .  .  I  only  hope  that  the  chance  will 
be  given  me  of  seeing  all  the  world  before  I  die. 
I  should  like  to  go  up  into  Thibet  and  Inde- 

[38] 


Mary  E.  Stearns,  1859 


CHILDHOOD  AND  GIRLHOOD 

pendent  Tartary,  into  countries  where  no  one 
ever  goes.  Hang  those  every-day  travellers 
that  sleep  in  hotels  and  roll  about  in  phae- 
tons !  .  .  .  Perhaps  my  history  is  to  be  writ- 
ten hereafter,  and  I  may  be  called  upon  to 
relate  to  my  children's  children  the  narrow 
escapes  in  Bombay!  ...  A  tiger  was  killed 
the  other  night  only  a  few  hundred  yards  from 
our  house.  It  measured  about  eight  feet  from 
tip  to  tip.  ...  I  expect  it's  somewhat  like 
romance  in  the  East.  .  .  .  So,  on  receipt 
of  this,  don't  write  me  till  the  last  mail  in 
July." 

And  when  he  finally  did  come,  about  the  first 
of  August,  it  was  a  surprise  not  only  to  the  rest 
of  the  world,  as  he  had  wished,  but  also  to 
Emmie.  For  she  was  awakened  in  the  mid- 
dle of  one  memorable  night  by  a  well-known 
whistle  under  her  window,  and  he  was  waiting 
for  her  in  the  garden  below. 

The  next  we  know  there  was  a  large  wedding 
in  the  Prospect  Street  Church  in  Cambridge, 
on  the  twenty-fourth  of  August,  1859,  when 
William  French  Stearns  and  Mary  Emmeline 
Kittredge  were  married  by  President  Stearns. 

[39] 


INTRODUCTION 

The  radiance  of  their  happiness  is  recalled 
to-day  as  unique  in  the  experience  of  one  who 
was  there.  A  month  later,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  September,  1859,  they  sailed  for 
India,  where  a  new  life  in  the  "city  built  of 
rainbows"  was  to  begin. 


PART  I 

Married   Life 


I 

First  Year  in  Bombay 

THE  mere  mention  of  certain  places  surrounds 
one  with  a  world  of  romance.  One  feels,  all  at 
once,  the  vitality  of  life  in  an  imaginary  sphere 
—  as  the  mention  of  certain  persons  lifts  one 
into  life  on  a  different  plane.  Such  a  place  was 
Mount  Pleasant,  Malabar  Hill,  Wilderness 
Road,  Bombay;  such  a  person  was  the  lady 
who  lived  in  it.  Is  not  the  very  name  of  Mr. 
Stearns's  bungalow  suggestive  of  long  tropical 
days  and  "nights  fragrant  with  blooms  and 
jewelled  thick  with  stars  "  —  where,  "lulled  by 
the  cadence  of  the  garden-stream,"  the  "easy, 
uncounted  Eastern  minutes  slide  by "  ?  Here 
began  Mrs.  Stearns's  oriental  life,  luxurious, 
beautiful  as  dreams,  —  above  all,  so  dear  to 
her. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  had  reached  Bombay 
on  the  thirteenth  of  November,  1859,  and  had 
stayed,  for  a  few  weeks,  with  their  good  friends, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harding,  at  the  Mission  House. 

[43] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

Then  they  moved  to  Mount  Pleasant,  far  above 
the  dust  of  the  crowded  city,  out  where  the  sea- 
breeze  creeps  in  as  the  heat  of  the  tropical  day 
grows  strong.  Mr.  Stearns  described  it  to  his 
father.  "We  have  a  most  beautiful  house,  or 
'bungalow/  as  it  is  called  here,  situated  on 
Malabar  Hill,  about  four  miles  from  the  Fort, 
or  place  of  business.  .  .  .  Our  house  is  on  the 
side  of  the  hill,  overlooking  a  mass  of  tropical 
verdure,  palms,  tamarind  and  popoi  trees;  at 
the  foot,  and  within  gunshot,  the  sea  breaks 
over  the  black  rocks,  shaking  and  scattering  its 
white  foam  in  beautiful  contrast  to  the  bold 
and  naked  shore.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  places 
in  Bombay." 

The  compound  of  the  house  was  massed  with 
startling,  red-leaved  shrubs,  and  on  each  side 
of  the  wide  white  doorway,  beside  the  cascades 
of  maiden-hair  fern,  sat  two  white-turbaned 
tailors,  attentively  sewing.  According  to  tropi- 
cal fashion,  the  house  was  open,  through  and 
through.  The  drawing-room,  filled  with  carved 
teak  furniture,  the  circular  red  divan  in  the 
centre,  the  grand  piano  at  one  side,  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  billiard-room  at  one  end  and 
from  the  dining-room  at  the  other  by  tall, 

[44] 


Mount  Pleasant,  Malabar  Hill,  Bombay 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

carved  screens.  These  were  removed  just 
before  dinner,  to  reveal  the  beautifully  deco- 
rated table  and  the  servants  in  uniform,  one 
behind  each  chair.  The  head  butler  wore  a 
brilliant  turban,  white  coat,  red  brocade 
trousers,  and  wide  sash.  "The  rules  of  caste 
necessitated  a  large  number  of  servants,  and 
the  heat  of  the  day  demanded  an  equipment 
in  horses  and  carriages  if  one  ventured  out  of 
the  compound,  which  elsewhere  would  border 
on  extravagance."  One  of  Mrs.  Stearns's  own 
letters  describes  her  household. 

"  BOMBAY,  January  25,  1860. 
"Let  me  tell  you  first  of  all  that  you  cannot 
get  along  with  few  servants  here  as  at  home. 
.  .  .  We  have  the  nice  little  number  of  eighteen. 
Will  you  have  their  names  ?  First  and  chief 
among  them  all  is  Butler,  whose  duty  con- 
sists in  making  all  the  purchases  for  the  house, 
arranging  all  the  meals  for  the  day,  making 
puddings,  tarts,  and  various  nice  dishes  for  the 
table,  waiting  on  the  table,  ordering  the  other 
servants,  etc.  This  same  butler  is  a  Portu- 
guese, calls  himself  a  Christian,  is  a  well- 
dressed,  good-looking,  and  very  capable  per- 

[45] 


MARKUP  I. in 

son.  Next  is  Bobajee,  or  the  cook,  who  is 
also  Portuguese;  two  boys,  Rama  and  Cymon, 
uho  wait  on  the  table  and  do  various  things; 
Mussal,  who  takes  care  of  the  lamps,  dishes, 
etc.,  Hamal,  who  makes  the  beds,  rubs  the 
furniture,  and  keeps  clean  in  general ;  Sweeper, 
whose  duty  consists  in  the  care  of  the  bath- 
rooms, and  various  things  below  the  other 
servants;  Panee-wallah  or  water-bringer ;  Ra- 
mooshee,  who  watches  the  house  at  night; 
Coolee,  who  brings  the  things  from  the  bazaar; 
Coachman  and  three  Gora-wallahs,  one  for 
each  horse;  Dhobie  or  washerman;  Durzie  or 
tailor;  Mallee  or  gardener;  and  Small  Boy  in 
the  cook-room,  who  builds  the  fire.  The  name 
of  each  of  these  indicates  his  profession  and 
they  are  known  by  no  other.  Take  Hamal,  for 
instance.  He  knows  nothing  except  to  make 
beds,  sweep  the  floors,  and  polish  the  furni- 
ture; it  would  be  an  impossibility  for  him  to  do 
anything  else.  ...  I  like  the  servants  very 
much  thus  far.  .  .  .  I  assure  you  that  our  cook- 
ing is  delicious.  I  have  never  tasted  better  any- 
where. Should  I  have  a  large  dinner-party,  I 
should  only  have  to  tell  my  butler  how  many 
people  were  coming,  and  I  should  feel  sure  that 

[46] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

everything  would  be  right.  .  .  .  All  I  can  do 
is  to  keep  a  watch  over  the  butler,  seeing  that 
he  does  not  make  our  living  too  expensive.  I 
make  him  give  me  a  strict  account  of  all  he 
buys  each  day  and  then  pay  him."  He  was,  so 
to  speak,  the  grand  mogul  of  the  household. 
All  discipline  and  all  complaints  came  through 
him. 

She  continued :  "  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
have  any  care  here,  though  I  take  all  I  can 
possibly  get.  We  have  an  excellent  dbobie.  My 
dresses  are  done  up  better  than  I  ever  had  them 
done  at  home,  as  also  my  collars,  sleeves,  etc. 
...  I  am  sure  you  would  revel  in  having 
things  done  as  I  have  had  them  thus  far.  .  .  . 
Mrs.  Harding  has  been  spending  a  week  with 
us  for  her  baby's  health." 

The  servants  slept  on  mats  under  the  veran- 
das, or,  if  they  had  families,  in  tents,  which 
they  could  put  up  near  by.  They  formed  a 
little  community,  though  hardly  friendly,  since 
the  rules  of  caste  kept  them  from  eating  with 
each  other.  The  same  rules  prevented  them 
from  touching  the  food  of  Europeans. 

Of  how  Mrs.  Stearns  passed  her  days,  we 
have  an  account  in  her  own  words.  "We  rise 

[47] 


MARRIM-  I.n  i 

quite  early  in  the  morning  before  the  sun  is  up, 
bathe,  dress  as  quickly  as  possible,  partake  of 
'  little  breakfast,'  —  chota  henrtt,  —  consisting 
of  tea,  bread  and  butter,  and  plantains,  then 
walk  two  or  three  miles."  It  is  the  unconven- 
tional part  of  the  day.  "The  road  ...  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  the  seashore  ...  is  pro- 
tected from  the  morning  sun  by  the  hill.  We 
meet  many  persons  walking  or  riding.  On  our 
return  we  dress,  have  prayers,  and  breakfast 
at  half-past  eight  or  nine  o'clock.  Will  and 
Mr.  Healey "  —  who  now  lived  with  them 
—  "go  immediately  to  their  business  in  the 
Fort." 

During  the  morning  the  butler's  accounts 
might  be  examined;  the  daily  visit  made  to  the 
store-room  to  give  out  the  necessary  articles 
for  the  day's  use;  work  for  the  durue  —  for  a 
man  was  the  family  seamstress  —  arranged 
and  inspected.  "From  eleven  all  two  o'clock 
I  am  obliged  to  be  ready  for  callers."  Prodi- 
gally coloured  butterflies,  produced  in  flower- 
gardens,  and  known  in  India  as  "flying  flow- 
ers," sun  their  wings,  timid  lizards  run  about 
over  the  walls  or  bask  on  the  lattice,  and  in  the 
thick,  cool  shade  of  the  masses  of  mango  trees, 

[48] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

the  sun-birds  flash.  Beyond,  the  blue  sea 
spreads  wide  to  the  tropical  midday  sun. 

*  The  painted  streets  alive  with  hum  of  noon, 

'  The  traders  cross-legged  'mid  their  spice  and  grain, 

'  The  buyers  with  their  money  in*  the  cloth,  .  .  . 

'  The  shout  to  clear  the  ro^d,  the  huge  stone  wheels, 

'  The  strong,  slow  oxen  and  their  rustling  loads,  .  .  . 

'The  dyers  stretching  waist-cloths  in  the  sun 

'  Wet  from  the  vats  —  orange,  and  rose,  and  green ; 

'  The  soldiers  clanking  past,"  — 

such  is  an  Indian  hot  high-noon,  the  formal 
hour  for  calling. 

If  no  one  should  come,  a  thousand  things  of 
interest  can  be  seen  from  the  verandas.  To 
quote  Mr.  Stearns:  "While  I  write,  two  or 
three  snake-charmers  have  come  up  to  the 
door.  They  promise  to  show  us  a  fight  between 
a  cobra  and  a  mongoose.  They  are  queer  fel- 
lows, and  their  performance  in  jugglery  and 
sleight  of  hand  would  astonish  you.  .  .  . 

"Within  a  few  rods,  or  yards,  rather,  of  my 
chair,  sits  a  native  Christian  preacher,  named 
Dajiba,  *  putting  in '  like  a  good  one.  For  an 
audience  he  has  a  portion  of  our  servants  only. 
Some  will  not  come,  they  are  so  bigoted,  a  few 
come  to  please  us,  and  one,  or  perhaps  two, 
because  they  like  to  hear  him.  For  all  this 
[  49  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

instruction  I  pay  him  ten  rupees  per  month, 
or  sixty  dollars  per  year!" 

Sometimes  Mrs.  Stearns  herself  went  call- 
ing, for  it  was  necessary  to  return  a  call  within 
one  week  or  lose  the  acquaintance. 

"At  two  o'clock  I  rfave  my  tiffin,  or  lunch, 
then  lounge  about  .  .  .  unexposed  to  any  com- 
pany until  four,  dress  again  for  callers,  or  a 
drive."  It  is  interesting  to  know  what  Mis. 
Stearns  called  "lounging  about."  She  said, 
"I  am  trying  to  finish  Prescott's  works  and 
Alexander  Dumas.  .  .  .  We  have  from  New 
York  by  every  mail  the  New  York  Times 
and  Herald,  Boston  Advertiser,  Transcript  and 
Traveller.  I  read  all  these  with  the  exception 
of  the  Herald;  from  England  the  Home  News 
and  Cornbill  Magazine;  two  Bombay  daily 
papers  and  one  weekly." 

Everybody  takes  a  drive  before  dinner 
"along  the  shore,  perhaps,  or  over  the  crest  of 
the  hill  by  the  grim  Towers  of  Silence,  where 
the  Parsees  burn  their  dead,  through  the  palm- 
groves  of  Girgaum,  through  the  native  town 
to  the  open  Esplanade,  where,  amid  the  mob 
of  carriages,  can  be  seen  the  rich  native  with 
his  European  coachman,  and  all  the  mush- 

[50] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

room  growth  of  suddenly  acquired  wealth, 
sprinkling  of  officialdom,  and  smartly  dressed 
army  officers." 

"  I  often  drive  into  the  Fort  and  bring  Will 
home.  .  .  .  Three  nights  in  the  week  we  have 
a  band  of  music  at  the  Esplanade  between  our 
house  and  the  Fort,  where  we  often  stop  for  a 
while  on  our  way  home.  It  is  quite  a  fashion- 
able resort,  people  driving,  riding,  and  gossip- 
ing, a  few  perhaps  listening  to  the  music." 

This  was  "that  marvellous  hour  which 
closes  the  tropical  day,  when  light  becomes  an 
illusion  and  .  .  .  Mystery  casts  off  the  shade 
and  clothes  itself  in  radiance!  .  .  .  When  .  .  . 
all  colours  are  rarefied,  not  dimmed ;  all  forms 
rendered  ethereal,  not  distorted  nor  effaced." 
Saturated  with  the  odour  of  crushed  vegetation, 
that  wonderful  twilight  passed  like  a  flash,  and 
the  night  shut  down  upon  them — those  nights 
"which  have  the  essence  of  five  nights  any- 
where else  extracted  and  enriched  with  spices  " 
—  when  one  sits  perfectly  still  and  listens  to 
the  blue  doves'  coo  —  or  the  sad  whistle  of 
the  little  owl  or  night-jar.  Dinner  closed  the 
day,  save  for  a  quiet  hour,  unless  some  formal 
function  prolonged  it. 

[51] 


MARRIED  I.n  i 

Different  from  all  others  was  mail-day,  corn- 
it  first  hut  twice  a  month.  It  is  dcsrrihed 
by  Mr.  Stearns.  "While  writing  the  mail 
signalled !  .  .  .  First,  the  smoke  of  a  steamer 
is  spied  from  the  outer  light-ship,  long  before 
the  vessel  itself  is  visible.  Up  goes  a  flag  on 
the  liuht-ship  at  once,  to  notify  the  fellows  at 
the  light-house  on  shore  that  a  steamer  is  com- 
ing. Should  the  steamer  be  coming  from  the 
south,  a  large  white  one  with  a  black  cross 
goes  up  on  the  south  side  of  the  flag-staff;  if 
from  the  north,  then  on  the  north  side.  As 
soon  as  it  is  ascertained  that  it  is  the  mail,  a 
large  red  flag  with  three  white  crosses  in  it  is 
hoisted,  and  then,  such  excitement  until  the 
news  is  known,  you  cannot  imagine." 

When  the  letters  had  been  read  their  replies 
must  be  returned  at  once  —  it  took  three 
months  to  write  a  letter  and  receive  an  answi-r, 
and,  to  quote  again,  "during  that  time  the 
world  turns  ninety  times ! "  The  interest  in 
home  news  and  the  love  of  home  friends  was 
so  intense  with  both  that  they  sent  off  "rarely 
less  than  a  dozen  [letters]  and  sometimes  over 
twenty  by  each  opportunity,  those  not  short 
ones  by  any  manner  of  means." 

[52] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

There  was  no  other  communication  with 
Europe  and  America,  for  the  cable  was  not 
yet  laid. 

On  Sunday  they  made  their  life  as  nearly 
as  possible  like  that  at  home.  They  attended 
regularly  the  Scotch  Free  Church. 

Mr.  Stearns's  business  was  thriving.  He 
was  popular  with  all  classes,  both  European 
and  native,  influential  in  business  and  finan- 
cial circles,  respected  by  his  associates  and  the 
officers  of  the  government. 

With  no  prescribed  duties,  with  every  temp- 
tation to  the  luxury  of  idleness  in  the  tropics, 
and  every  excuse  for  indolence,  Mrs.  Stearns 
was  constantly  busy.  She  never  felt  that  it 
was  allowable  to  waste  a  moment  of  time. 
Besides  her  household  cares  she  studied  sys- 
tematically to  increase  her  command  of  lan- 
guages, learning  Hindustani,  which  she  spoke 
remarkably  well,  and  reading  French,  with 
which  she  became  so  familiar  that  when  she 
went  to  Paris  she  needed  only  the  study  of 
diction.  Tradition  has  it  that  she  read  through 
twenty-two  volumes  of  Prescott  during  the  few 
minutes  every  day  when  an  ayah  was  brushing 
her  hair !  She  practised,  too,  just  so  long  every 

[53] 


MARRIED  I 

day  as  if  in  preparation  f<»r  the  future  need. 
There  never  was  at  any  time  with  her  the  atti- 
tude of  one  who  has  arrived,  with  \\hom  the 
future  can  care  for  itself. 

"To-morrow,"  Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  on  the 
twenty-ninth  of  February,  1860,  "I  spend  the 
day  with  Mrs.  Faithfull,  who  is  one  of  the  t 
ladies  in  Bombay.  .  .  .  Mr.  Faithfull  is  the 
hrst  lawyer  here  and  has  an  enormous  bi. 
ness.  .  .  .  She  came  out  in  the  same  steamer 
with  us  from  England  and  occupied  the  same 
cabin  with  me.  She  is  a  splendid  woman,  very 
highly  accomplished ;  timid  creature  that  I  am, 
I  am  somewhat  afraid  of  her,  yet  she  is  ex- 
cessively kind  and  exerts  herself  very  much  to 
add  to  my  comfort." 

From  this  chance  meeting  on  the  steamer 
there  sprang  a  friendship  which  was  a  roman- 
tic devotion  indeed.  It  formed  a  large  part  of 
the  glamour  of  Indian  life.  In  appearance 
Mrs.  Faithfull  was  regal,  always  followed 
wherever  she  went  by  an  Indian  servant  in 
livery.  With  great  strength  of  character,  she 
was  noted  for  her  accomplishments  and  bril- 
liant wit.  Mrs.  Stearns  had  an  exalted  opinion 
of  her.  Too  much  cannot  be  said  of  Mrs. 

1 54] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

Faithfull's  influence.  It  continued,  a  constant 
stimulus,  long  after  Mrs.  Faithfull's  death. 
Her  picture  hung  close  above  Mrs.  Stearns's 
desk  all  her  life. 

She  taught  Mrs.  Stearns  the  usages  of 
Anglo-Indian  society,  which  was  ceremonious 
to  the  last  degree.  Rank  dominated  social 
functions,  which  were  conventional  and  iron- 
bound.  The  climate  imposed  limitations  no 
less  rigid,  which  largely  restricted  the  freedom 
to  which  we  are  accustomed.  Mrs.  Stearns's 
more  detailed  account  gives  a  clearer  idea. 

"BOMBAY,  April  10,  1860. 

"The  four  months  now  passed,  or  till  March, 
are  considered  the  season  in  Bombay;  during 
that  time  dinner-parties,  balls,  etc.,  are  numer- 
ous. .  .  .  Have  I  written  you  in  regard  to  a 
music  soiree  given  by  Mrs.  Faithfull,  one  of  my 
best  friends  ?  .  .  .  She  is  like  an  older  sister 
to  me.  .  .  .  She  is  a  very  talented  musician,  I 
suppose  more  so  than  any  other  lady  in  Bom- 
bay, and  with  the  assistance  of  a  few  other 
musicians  gave  a  concert  of  which  Zerrahn 
might  have  been  proud.  But  to  go  back  a 
little.  The  list  of  invites  quite  frightened  me ! 

[55] 


MARRIED  1 

Such  names  as  Sir  Henry  Somerset,  Com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  Bombay  army,  Lady 
Somerset,  both  members  of  the  governor's  coun- 
cil, any  number  of  Sirs  besides,  induced  me  to 
decide  at  first  that  I  would  not  accept  the  in- 
vitation. The  best  society  here,  which  includes 
the  highest  officials,  is  very  formal  and  ex- 
ceedingly particular  on  points  of  emjmm, 
many  of  which  differ  from  those  observed  in 
England,  and  I  feared  that  we  had  hardly  be- 
come familiar  enough  with  them  to  enjoy  such 
a  party.  .  .  .  Calling  to  the  rescue  all  the 
courage  I  possessed  and  determining  to  imag- 
ine myself  Lady  Somebody,  I  went  immedi- 
ately to  order  a  dress  for  that  occasion.  As  you 
will  wish  to  know  what  it  was,  I  will  describe 
it  shortly.  The  dress  was  of  plain  black  tulle, 
very  fashionable  here,  made  in  double  skirt, 
each  skirt  with  narrow  puffs,  trimmed  with 
pink  ribbon.  This  was  worn  over  plain  silk, 
waist  and  sleeves  with  pink  ribbons  like  the 
skirt.  One  thing  let  me  remark  here,  —  that  I 
find  it  impossible  to  wear  anything  over  the 
shoulders,  like  the  lace  capes  which  I  had 
before  leaving  home,  even  to  the  most  quiet 
dinners.  It  would  be  thought  highly  improper, 

[56] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

so  I  have  yielded  to  low-necked  dresses.  Over 
my  head  I  wore  a  French  wreath  of  pink 
flowers,  with  pearls  over  the  top,  satin  slippers, 
handkerchief  and  fan  to  correspond  with  the 
rest  of  the  dress.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  although 
it  was  a  splendid  party,  I  spent  one  of  the  hap- 
piest evenings  of  my  life,  and  saw  nothing  to 
be  alarmed  at.  ...  The  brilliant  uniform 
worn  by  Sir  Henry  Somerset  as  well  as  inferior 
officers  contrasted  beautifully  with  the  dresses 
of  the  ladies  and  added  much  to  the  splendour 
of  the  room. 

"  The  custom  here  is,  when  you  arrive  at  a 
party,  the  servants  announce  that  a  carriage  is 
at  the  door,  the  gentleman  of  the  house  imme- 
diately goes  to  the  carriage,  takes  the  lady  upon 
his  arm,  and  enters  the  drawing-room  with  her, 
taking  her  first  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  and 
then  seating  her.  Mr.  Faithfull  is  the  only  per- 
son who  gives  parties  of  this  kind,  all  others 
being  dinners  or  dancing  parties..  .  .  .  Ladies 
are  very  tenacious  of  their  rank  here.  However, 
the  only  chance  for  any  display  of  this  kind  was 
going  to  and  from  the  refreshment-room.  Re- 
freshments were  had  after  the  music,  much  like 
large  parties  at  home,  going  from  this  room 

[57] 


MARRIFD  I. in 

-he  carnages,  without  «  miring  again  the 
drawing-room  It  \\miltl  have  been  highly 
improper  if  any  lady  had  gone  to  her  carriage 
before  Lady  Somerset,  as  she  was  highest  in 
rank,  and  so  on.  Of  course  those  not  in  the 
service,  as  it  is  called,  know  what  to  do.  There 
is  no  putting  on  of  bonnets,  shawls,  etc.,  as  at 
home.  We  wear  over  the  shoulders  simply  an 
evening  cloak  .  .  .  which  is  easily  thrown  on. 
...  I  like  it  much,  and  with  all  its  formality 
the  ladies  are  so  very  kind  to  me." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Mr.  Stearns's  brother 
Frazar,  a  generous,  affectionate,  proud-spirited, 
high-minded  boy  of  nineteen,  spent  two  months 
with  them.  He  was  taking  a  trip  around  the 
world  in  the  midst  of  his  college  course,  after  a 
siege  of  typhoid  fever.  He  left,  much  to  their 
regret,  in  early  May.  Shortly  afterwards  Mr. 
Healey  returned  to  Boston,  and  they  were  left 
alone. 

The  month  of  May  in  Bombay  is  the  hottest 
in  the  year.  Nearly  every  one  goes  away  to  the 
Hills  for  a  change.  But  the  heat  is  different 
from  American  summers,  for  there  is  a  sea- 
breeze  all  day  long. 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

On  the  eighteenth  of  May,  1860,  their  first 
child,  William  Kittredge  Stearns,  was  born. 
"Hurrah!  Daddy,  you're  a  grandpa,"  wrote 
Mr.  Stearns;  and,  a  moment  later:  "Oh,  it 
is  an  awful,  yet  glorious  privilege  to  feel  that 
there  is  one  for  whose  time  and  eternity  you 
are  responsible!  .  .  .  He  is  God's,  and  no 
doubt  will  be  used  for  somewise  purpose,  come 
life  or  death."  And  Mrs.  Stearns  wrote:  "I 
fancy  I  am  like  most  mothers,  a  little  foolish 
perhaps.  I  do  not  say  that  he  is  the  most  won- 
derful boy  that  was  ever  born,  although  I  con- 
fess I  often  find  myself  thinking  so.  ...  Now 
during  the  rains  there  is  but  little  going  on,  and 
I  have  nothing  to  do  but  amuse  myself  with 
this  little  pet." 

The  household  was  somewhat  changed,  as 
"Cymon,  the  head-butler,  gave  up  almost  en- 
tirely his  other  duties  to  remain  with  baby  and 
his  ayah.  Cymon  is  now  learning  English.  .  .  . 
The  servants  here  are  remarkable  for  their  de- 
votion to  the  children  of  their  masters.  You 
will  hardly  believe  it,  perhaps,  but  I  assure  you 
that  I  never  take  baby  myself  that  I  do  not  feel 
sure  I  am  depriving  Cymon  or  the  ayah  of 
quite  an  amount  of  pleasure.  .  .  .  They  call 

[59] 


MARRIED  LIFE 
the    baby  chota   sahib,  which    means   'little 


master.' 


In  speaking  to  his  mistress  a  servant  usuallv 
addressed  her  as  "your  worship,"  so  the 
wording  of  the  following  note  is  not  surprising. 
"Most  respected  Madam:  I  take  the  liberty 
and  enform  your  ladyship's  honour  that  I  am 
your  obedient  humble  Butler  named  Celestine 
Alvares,  always  attended  to  your  orders." 
Then  follows  a  complaint.  "  Pray  forever  long 
life  and  prosperity  with  all  your  respectable 
family  and  Mr.  Baby  and  Relasions." 

The  intense  heat  of  May  is  relieved  during 
early  June  by  the  monsoon,  or  southwest  wind, 
and  about  three  weeks  later  the  rains  begin. 
To  quote  Mr.  Stearns :  "  It  is  the  famous  rainy 
season  of  the  tropics.  ...  It  comes  by  the 
foot,  not  by  the  inch.  As  a  specimen :  I  went 
out  the  other  night  to  make  a  call.  It  was  quite 
pleasant,  but  soon  it  commenced  to  pour,  and 
in  about  two  hours'  time  so  much  fell,  that  I 
was  obliged  to  wade  half-way  home  ankle-deep 
.  .  .  one  place  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile  long 
nearly  up  to  my  knees !  .  .  .  We  have  between 
seventy  and  eighty  inches  during  the  rainy 
season  of  two  to  three  months  only.  .  .  .  There 

[60] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

it  goes  again,  coming  down  in  sheets,  and  this 
morning  the  ground  is  alive  with  great  yellow 
frogs.  .  .  .  They  hop  about  for  a  week  or  so, 
then  disappear,  and  one  sees  no  more  for  a 
year.  Where  they  come  from  or  go  to,  no  one 
knows.  .  .  .  Perhaps  they  are  the  embodied 
spirits  of  baked  Hindu ! " 

Mrs.  Stearns  wrote :  "The  change  is  wonder- 
ful. ...  It  is  like  magic.  ...  It  seems  as 
though  every  rock  had  sprung  into  life.  Many 
of  the  walls  .  .  .  are  entirely  covered  with  a 
beautiful  green  moss."  During  the  night  the 
thickets  are  alive  with  the  brilliant  little  Indian 
fireflies.  "The  dampness  of  the  air  is  very 
refreshing.  So  far  it  has  generally  rained  in  the 
night  and  during  the  morning,  and  been  quite 
pleasant  towards  night.  .  .  .  The  place  for 
driving  during  the  rains  is  on  the  beach  near 
us.  .  .  .  The  only  unpleasant  thing  about  the 
rains  to  me  is  the  effect  it  has  upon  our  clothes. 
They  .  .  .  are  covered  with  mould  and  mil- 
dew in  spite  of  all  we  can  do.  .  .  . 

"We  have  with  us  at  present  [July  5,  1860], 

Richard   H.   Dana,   Jr.,   of  Cambridge.    He 

came  by  the  last  mail  from  China.  Will  called 

upon  him  .  .  .  and  he  came  to  us  ...  di- 

[61] 


MARRII  i    I  m 

rectly.  He  intended  to  go  on  by  this  mail,  hut 
uffering  so  much  from  an  injury  received  on 
board  the  steamer,  that  he  has  not  been  out  of 
the  house  since  he  has  been  with  us;  in  conse- 
quence of  this  he  will  remain  another  foit- 
night." 

An  amusing  incident  happened  during  this 
visit.  One  evening,  while  they  were  all  at  din- 
ner, Willie  began  to  cry.  "  Fray  go  to  him, 
Mrs.  Stearns,"  said  Mr.  Dana.  "  I  know  how 
uneasy  you  must  be."  "  If  you  will  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Dana,"  she  replied,  "  I  think  I  will  go  for 
just  a  moment.  He  almost  never  cries!"  And 
this  was  the  only  time  she  was  ever  known  to 
leave  the  table. 

After  Mr.  Dana  was  better,  Mr.  Stearns  spent 
a  week  or  more  showing  him  the  picturesque 
native  life  of  India.  He  asked  the  Hindu 
physician,  Dr.  Bhawoo  Dajee,  considered  the 
best  guide  in  Bombay,  to  take  Mr.  Dana 
about.  He  was  invited  to  the  house  of  a 
wealthy  Parsee  to  see  the  ladies  of  the  family 
arrayed  in  their  finest  jewels.  He  went  with 
Mr.  Stearns  to  Poona,  across  the  Ghauts, 
which  he  thought,  because  of  the  rain,  "one  of 
the  finest  sights  he  had  ever  witnessed." 

[62] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

With  the  very  kind  permission  of  Mr.  Dana's 
son,  Richard  H.  Dana,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  some 
parts  of  Mr.  Dana's  journal  relating  to  Bom- 
bay and  its  vicinity  follow.  I  insert  them,  not  for 
the  delightful  descriptions,  but  rather  because 
the  entertainment  he  received  was  character- 
istic of  Mr.  Stearns's  Indian  hospitality,  and 
because  the  scenes  he  so  vividly  shows  were 
of  every-day  occurrence  in  Mrs.  Stearns's  life. 

The  date  of  Mr.  Dana's  arrival  in  Bombay 
was  Monday,  July  2, 1860.  He  writes :  — 

"  I  am  in  British  India!  and  the  servants  call  me 
Sahib  and  say  'salaam,'  and  touch  their  turbans. 
My  room  is  long  and  bare,  but  with  good  ven- 
tilation, and  there  is  a  servant  to  stay  in  the 
room  all  the  time,  or  about  the  door.  This  is  the 
Indian  custom.  One  of  the  firm  of  Dossabhoy 
Merwanjee  &  Co.,  a  Parsee  house,  calls  on  me 
with  offers  of  civilities.  .  .  .  He  sits  an  hour 
or  so  in  his  cherry-coloured  silk  trousers,  white 
robe,  and  Parsee  hat,  and  declines  an  invita- 
tion to  dine,  alleging  that  Parsees  never  dine 
with  strangers,  as  they  cannot  eat  our  meats. 

"Tuesday,  July  3.  At  four  o'clock  Mr. 
Stearns  comes  for  me  in  his  carriage.  .  .  .  Ride 


MARRIED  LIFE 

in  the  rain  through  Bombay.  .  .  .  Here  are 
tanks  [for  Jhobifs]  where  the  water  is  collected 
in  the  rainy  season,  and  women  carrying 
pitchers  on  their  heads,  and  oxen  drawing 
water  from  the  tanks.  What  strikes  me  mo 
the  free,  graceful,  queenly  carriage  of  the  wo- 
men. .  .  .  It  is  a  delight  to  see  them  move.  A 
white  robe  drawn  over  the  shoulder  hangs 
gracefully  about  them,  allowing  perfect  free- 
dom of  motion,  and  showing  the  shape  and 
movements,  while  they  step  off  with  a  proud, 
dainty  step,  each  a  duchess,  —  but  no  duchess 
that  I  ever  saw  walked  so  well.  .  .  .  This 
place  has  the  greatest  conglomeration  of  races, 
sects  and  castes,  of  perhaps  any  place  in  the 
world,  —  everything  that  Africa,  Kurope  and 
Asia  and  all  their  intermixtures  can  produce. 

"Stearns  has  a  pretty  bungalow  on  Malabar 
Hill.  .  .  .  There  is  a  view  of  the  sea,  which 
opens  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  we  can  both 
see  and  hear  the  breakers.  The  house  is  one 
story,  with  piazzas  all  round,  and  long  pro- 
jecting thatched  roof,  like  all  bungalows,  and 
is  airy  and  shady,  with  large,  high  rooms.  I 
have  three  rooms  en  suite  —  a  sleeping,  sitting 
and  bathing  room  —  assigned  me,  and  a  na- 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

tive  servant.  This  is  very  agreeable  and  a  most 
pleasant  change  from  my  hotel.  .  .  .  They  are 
young,  married  at  home  last  year,  and  have 
their  first  child,  only  six  weeks  old,  a  boy. 
Dr.  Meade  comes  and  .  .  .  discovers  that  I 
have  broken  a  rib.  ...  A  good  Providence  has 
decreed  me  an  accident,  but  mercifully  made 
it  light,  and  all  its  circumstances  as  favour- 
able as  possible,  a  pleasant  home  and  kind 
friends,  a  good  surgeon,  and  above  all  the  good 
health  that  gives  good  spirits  and  sleep.  .  .  . 

"July  4,  1860.  ...  A  barber  shaves  me 
every  morning,  draped  in  a  maroon  turban  and 
white  robe,  and  my  servant  wears  a  red  tur- 
ban. .  .  . 

"Monday,  July  15.  ...  Ride  to  church 
this  afternoon  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  and 
get  my  [really]  first  view  and  notion  of  Bom- 
bay. It  is  a  picturesque  and  interesting  spec- 
tacle, —  that  of  the  East  Indian  races,  in  their 
marked  costumes,  —  Hindus,  Musulmans  and 
Parsees,  and  here  and  there  an  Arab  or  Persian 
or  negro,  each  cognizable  by  his  dress,  —  all, 
...  or  nearly  all,  with  turbans,  —  but  differ- 
ing in  form  and  colour.  .  .  .  And  then  the 
marks  of  caste  on  the  forehead,  the  cabalistic 

[65] 


MARRIED  Ln  i 

dots  and  streaks  of  white  or  red  or  yellow,  for 
\shich  they  will  give  up  their  lives  at  any  time, 
—  that  caste  whuh  uill  not  let  a  Brahmin  beg- 
gar take  a  cup  of  water  from  a  king  of  the 
second  caste.  . 

"It  is  the  middle  of  the  'rains'  .  .  .  and 
everything  is  green,  and  rich,  and  dank  and 
mouldy.  The  mould  affects  all  the  houses, 
making  them  look  as  dull  and  dingy  as  St. 
Paul's.  Our  woolen  clothes,  books,  shoes, 
gloves  —  all  are  mouldy,  and  servants  are  em- 
ployed in  wiping  and  drying,  day  after  day.  .  .  . 
The  tanks  are  pretty  places.  They  are  of  all 
sizes,  —  some  as  large  as  the  Brookline  Reser- 
voir, others  as  the  Frog  Pond,  and  so  down  to 
the  size  of  dry  docks  and  small  basins.  They 
are  little  lakes  or  reservoirs,  open,  edged  with 
stone  or  grass,  and  in  them  the  water  is  col- 
lected, during  the  rains,  for  all  the  year.  They 
are  free  to  all.  .  .  .  Now,  I  see  the  force  of  the 
Scripture  figure,  —  in  these  dry  hot  lands. 
And  there  are  the  poor,  drawing  water  freely! 
and  by  the  banks  they  wash.  And  how  grace- 
ful are  their  water-bearers,  —  the  women,  I 
mean!  ...  I  cannot  keep  my  eyes  from 
them.  .  .  .  No  credit  to  the  Greek  sculptors 
[66] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

for  their  female  figures,  if  they  had  such  before 
them! 

"The  church  we  go  to  is  called  the  Byculla, 
—  for  the  quarter  of  the  town  in  which  it 
stands,  —  an  English  church.  It  is  curious  to 
see  it  fitted  with  punkahs,  six  on  each  side  and 
one  over  the  chancel,  and  an  English  congre- 
gation inside,  and  the  poor  heathen,  to  whom 
the  gospel  is  sent,  standing  outside  pulling  the 
punkahs.  As  it  is  dark  before  the  service  ends, 
each  pew  has  a  light,  at  the  corner,  a  candle  in 
a  glass  globe,  and  all  are  lighted,  —  but  the 
waving  punkahs  keep  us  cool.  Then,  almost 
every  one  rides  to  church,  and  the  gora-wallahs 
and  drivers  hang  around  outside.  I  fear  the  con- 
gregation of  heathen  servants  outside  is  greater 
than  that  of  Europeans  inside. 

"Monday,  July  16.  .  .  .  The  streets  in  the 
'Fort,'  where  all  the  business  is  done,  and 
where  most  of  the  natives  live,  are  very  narrow, 
with  high  walls,  five  or  six  stories  high,  and 
crowded  with  passers,  and  hot  and  close.  .  .  . 
Bombay  is  built  on  an  island,  or  series  of  islands, 
connected  by  causeways.  The  harbour  lies  be- 
tween these  and  the  main.  On  the  rear,  and 
open  to  the  sea,  is  Malabar  Hill.  ...  In  the 
[67] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

centre  is  the  Fort  and  Esplanade.  The  Fort  has 
walls  and  gates  and  a  ditch,  and  is  guarded; 
but  within  its  straitened  limits  is  all  the  busi- 
ness of  Bombay,  which  is  now  or  soon  is  to  be 
the  largest  in  India. 

"Tuesday,  July  17.  ...  To  the  Botanical 
Garden.  Saw  there  a  strychnine  tree,  every 
leaf  a  deadly  poison,  several  banyan  trees,  and 
the  cinnamon,  frankincense,  tamarind,  nut- 
meg and  teak.  .  .  .  On  our  way,  stopped  at 
the  cottage  of  a  labouring  Parsee  to  taste  the 
toddy  made  from  the  wild  date  tree.  A  naked 
coolie  went  up  the  tree  like  a  monkey,  with  a 
hoop  of  pliable  bamboo  round  his  waist,  and 
round  the  tree,  to  keep  him  to  it,  and  then  bore 
off  by  his  feet,  —  hatchet  and  pitcher  in  hand, 
—  tapped  the  tree,  and  brought  down  the 
pitcher  full  of  juice.  When  allowed  to  ferment, 
it  becomes  intoxicating,  and  is  the  arrak.  But 
when  fresh,  it  is  pleasant  and  healthful, 
slightly  acid.  Bhawoo  Dajee  takes  us  to  the 
home  of  a  wealthy  Hindu.  .  .  .  Gardens 
large,  level,  exquisitely  neat,  and  carefully  at- 
tended. Low  open-work  walls  of  porcelain  on 
each  side  of  the  walks.  Servants  in  troops,  four 
or  five  dusting  one  room.  Sepoys  at  the  door. 
[68| 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

...  In  a  carriage  saw  a  man  having  a  full- 
sized  crown  on  his  head,  with  high  points,  gold 
or  gilded.  Bhawoo  Dajee  tells  me  he  is  one  of 
the  lineal  descendants  of  Mohammed.  ...  It 
is  worth  coming  to  Bombay  to  see  a  lineal  de- 
scendant of  Mohammed ! 

"Wednesday,  July  18.  The  [Merwanjee] 
women  were  most  richly  dressed,  short,  low 
tunics,  and  long  robes  of  bright  colours,  and 
jewelled  rings  in  the  ears,  at  top  and  bottom, 
in  one  nostril,  on  neck  and  wrists  and  fingers 
and  ankles  and  toes,  barefooted,  of  course, 
except  that  they  have  ornamented  slippers, 
into  which  they  sometimes  thrust  their  feet. 
Hair  black,  eyes  black  or  dark,  complexions  — 
the  best  are  fair  olive,  but  ordinarily  yellow, 
noses  aquiline  and  sharp,  and  a  kind  of  Jewess 
look,  usually  very  thin.  .  .  .  When  I  rose  to 
leave,  they  gave  me  a  bouquet  and  showered 
me  with  rose-water  from  a  silver  censer,  and 
brought  me  paun  soparees  on  a  waiter,  —  these 
are  little  mixtures  of  spicery  rolled  up  in  a  betel 
leaf,  which  the  natives  are  fond  of  chewing. 
They  are  agreeable,  I  have  become  fond  of 
them.  Betel  nut  is  an  ingredient  of  allspice, 
cloves,  etc.  .  .  . 


MARRIED  LIFE 

"This  evening  at  about  eight  o'clock  set  off 
with  Mr.  Stearns  for  Poona  in  the  Dcccan, 
the  ancient  capital  of  the  Mahratta  Kmp 
the  headquarters  of  the  Brahmin  power  in 
Southern  India.  The  great  enterprise  of  the 
railroad  has  brought  Poona  within  attainable 
distance,  and  only  the  Ghauts  mountains  are 
to  be  crossed  on  foot.  Went  up  by  night  because 
Mr.  Stearns  could  only  give  two  whole  days. 
.At  stopping  places,  heard  jackals  close 
to  the  cars,  and  occasional  distant  other  cries, 
which  may  have  been  tigers. 

"About  midnight  reached  Kampoolie,  win-n- 
th e  road  stops  at  the  foot  of  the  Ghauts,  and 
we  take  palktts  to  ascend  the  Ghauts  by  torch- 
light. It  is  dark  and  rainy,  and  we  see  nothing 
but  high  hills  against  the  sky,  and  the  flash  of 
torches  along  the  steep,  winding  ascent.  I  get 
a  palkec,  a  kind  of  palanquin,  in  which  one  lies 
nearly  at  length,  —  not  high  enough  for  sitting 
up,  with  sliding  doors  on  each  side,  borne  on 
men's  shoulders,  two  before  and  two  behind. 
.  .  .  My  palanquin  had  ten  men,  and  I  sup- 
pose each  had  the  same,  four  bearers,  four 
reliefs,  and  two  torch-bearers.  .  .  .  About 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  reached 

[70] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

Khandala,  where  the  railroad  begins  again, 
and  half-sleeping,  half-waking,  were  precipi- 
tated along  to  Poona,  which  we  reached  just 
at  dawn.  I  believe  the  distance  is  one  hundred 
and  thirty  miles  from  Bombay. 

"Thursday,  July  19.  The  ancient  city  of 
Poona  is  about  a  mile  below  us,  the  British 
garrison  about  two  miles  off,  on  the  high  plain. 
.  .  .  We  walked  through  the  camp  bazaar, 
.  .  .  the  fish  bazaar,  the  meat  bazaar,  the 
fruit  bazaar,  and  the  vegetable  bazaar,  and  the 
usual  varieties  of  mango,  pineapple,  pomelo, 
pomegranate,  banana,  custard-apple,  etc.,  etc., 
and  the  usual  sprinkling  of  Parsees  and  Mus- 
ulmans  among  the  Hindus. 

"Out  of  the  bazaar,  the  streets  are  wide  and 
straight,  and  lined  with  bungalows  of  Euro- 
peans, each  having  the  occupant's  name  on  a 
sign  at  the  gate.  .  .  .  Soldiers  abound.  .  .  . 
Many  of  the  trees  are  tropical  and  aromatic, 
like  the  mango,  nutmeg,  etc.  ...  It  rains 
every  hour  or  two.  .  .  .  After  tiffin,  ride  to 
Parvutti  Hill  (to  see  famous  old  Hindu  tem- 
ples). Get  out  at  foot  and  walk  up.  Broad 
stone  steps  all  the  way  up,  twenty  feet  wide  or 
more.  .  .  .  Temples  in  the  Saracenic  style, 


MARRIED  I.n  > 

\\ith  numerous  little  domes  and  minarets,  and 
ru  lily  coloured.  Not  permitted  to  enter —  pro- 
fanation. .  .  .  They  say  they  do  not  worship 
the  idol,  but  only  reverence  the  represent. r 
of  a  Divine  Power  or  Agency.  .  .  .  From  the 
battlements  of  the  temple  a  fine  view  of  the 
great  plain  and  distant  empire.  .  .  .  Returned 
slowly  through  the  ancient  city.  ...  I  here, 
too,  are  some  very  pretty  tanks,  and  women 
bearing  water  on  their  heads,  and  bullocks  \\ith 
leathern  panniers  filled  with  water,  and  mone- 
tary looking  Parsees,  with  receding  hats,  and 
Hindus  with  the  patch  of  '  caste '  on  the  fore- 
head, and  the  grave  Musulmans,  and  turbans 
of  red  and  yellow  and  white  and  green,  and 
dangling  robes  of  all  colours.  .  .  .  Here,  too, 
the  common  women  are  bangled  and  spangled 
and  ringed  like  the  richest  Hindu  matron,  the 
only  difference  being  that  the  one  wears  real 
gold  and  jewels,  and  the  others  glass  and 
brass;  but,  at  a  distance,  the  common  woman 
is  the  counterpart,  with  her  nose-rings  and 
ear-rings,  necklaces,  bracelets,  finger-  rings, 
anklets,  and  rings  on  her  toes.  How  proudly 
and  daintily  she  steps  off,  barefooted,  bare- 
headed and  bare-armed,  with  the  water  vessel 

[72] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

on  her  head,  and  her  glitter  and  jangle  of  glass 
and  brass! 

"Friday,  July  20.  Took  railroad  at  9.45 
A.  M.  for  Bombay.  .  .  .  Took  palkees  to  de- 
scend the  Ghauts.  This  descent,  which  occu- 
pies about  two  and  one  half  hours,  is  glorious ! 
The  road,  cut  by  the  native  princes,  centuries 
ago,  to  connect  the  upper  Deccan  with  the  sea- 
coast,  winds  down  the  mountains,  as  steep  as 
men  or  bullocks  can  safely  walk,  while  above, 
below  and  around  are  the  hill-tops,  the  deep 
ravines  and  gorges,  and  the  opening,  far- 
stretching  plains;  and  now,  in  the  midst  of  the 
rains,  the  mountain-sides  are  alive  with  cas- 
cades. Water  falls  from  all  points,  and  in  all 
forms  and  quantities.  The  bearers  sing  all  the 
way,  a  rude  line  with  a  short  chorus  of  two  or 
three  words.  .  .  .  Reached  Bombay  at  dark, 
where  Stearns's  faithful  gora-wallah  and  coach 
were  waiting  for  us.  ... 

"Saturday,  July  21.  [After  enumerating  the 
seventeen  servants.]  These  are  men.  Then 
there  is  the  ayah  (child's  nurse).  Mrs.  Stearns 
is  thought  very  self-denying  not  to  have  an 
amah,  or  waiting-woman  for  herself;  and  when 
the  pair  of  horses  is  out  in  the  carriage,  one  of 

[73] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

the  gora-wallahs  is  coachman,  which  is  an 
economy.  Each  gora-wallah  sticks  to  Ins 
horse,  and  either  drives  him  or  sits  behind,  or 
runs  by  his  side.  No  coach  goes  without  at 
least  one  footman,  and  often  two.  They  run 
before,  when  coming  to  a  corner,  to  warn  and 
give  notice,  and  stand  by  the  horse's  head  when 
the  coach  stops.  .  .  . 

"Thence  to  Bhawoo  Dajee's.  .  .  .  Several 
Hindu  friends  of  rank  come  in  and  are  pre- 
sented. The  first  entertainment  is  a  juggler. 
He  sits  on  the  floor  of  the  veranda,  and  wt 
in  chairs  directly  before  him,  and  he  has  no 
table,  or  accomplice,  or  long  sleeves,  or  any 
means  of  concealment,  except  a  small  coarse 
bag  which  lies  by  him.  He  is  a  Mohammedan 
and  has  grave  and  decorous  manners,  salaam- 
ing to  us  before  and  after  each  trick.  He  pro- 
duced a  small  mango  tree  with  flowers  from 
nothing,  and  brought  several  cooing  doves  from 
nowhere,  and  burned  out  the  insides  of  his 
mouth,  and  performed  inexplicable  tricks  with 
cups  and  balls.  Bhawoo  Dajee  apologized  for 
not  getting  a  snake-charmer.  They  are  not 
here  in  the  '  rains.'  Next  came  a  man  with  two 
bears,  who  .  .  .  salaamed,  wrestled,  were 

[74] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

thrown,  etc.  Then  came  a  man  with  monkeys 
and  goats,  who  acted  little  farces,  taking  parts 
of  soldiers,  old  women,  etc.,  he  singing  all  the 
time,  and  shaking  a  little  drum  which  was  thus 
beaten  by  two  balls  on  the  ends  of  strings. 

"Now  we  adjourned  to  the  parlors,  and 
minstrels  came.  One  played  an  instrument  like 
a  guitar  with  a  bow.  The  other  played  a  lute 
and  sang.  The  songs  were  in  Hindustani, 
Marathi,  Gujerathi,  and  Persian.  ...  I  liked 
the  Persian  songs  best.  They  had  more  air  and 
the  words  were  more  articulate.  They  were 
like  Spanish  airs.  Next  a  boy  of  fifteen  or  six- 
teen sang,  the  most  celebrated  boy  singer  in 
Bombay.  .  .  .  The  next  and  last  entertain- 
ment was  a  mimic.  He  gave  imitations  of 
Brahmin  pundits  disputing  on  a  nice  point  of 
metaphysics,  of  Parsees  chanting  their  prayers, 
and  of  a  Brahmin  reading  passages  of  San- 
skrit and  expounding  them.  The  latter  caused 
great  merriment  among  our  grave  friends,  for 
Bhawoo  Dajee  says  the  Sanskrit  was  mere 
sound,  and  the  interpretation  mere  jumbles  of 
great  words.  Then  he  imitated  Arabs  singing 
in  deep,  hoarse  voices,  ending  almost  in  a  bray, 
and  the  sharp,  high- voiced  people  of  the  Carna- 

[75] 


MARKII  n  Lit  i 

tic.  I  called  for  an  imitation  of  English.  He 
declined,  but  when  I  insisted  he  gave  one.  .  .  . 
He  rubbed  his  chin,  rubbed  his  knees,  worked 
his  face,  turned  his  lu-ad  on  one  side  and  the 
other,  talked  in  a  thick  voice,  often  too  low  M 
be  heard,  and  as  it  were  by  jerks,  with  awk- 
ward attitude  and  motions.  .  .  . 

"After  this  very  agreeable  entertainment 
we  drove  ...  to  a  beautiful  Mohammedan 
mosque,  very  large,  of  white  stone,  with  nu- 
merous domes.  Then  to  the  chief  Parsee  Fire 
Temple.  ...  In  the  centre,  where  I  cannot 
enter,  is  a  room  with  a  kind  of  altar,  on  which 
burns  the  perpetual  fire.  It  is  a  clear,  hot  after- 
noon, and  from  the  walk  we  see  the  broad 
Back  Bay,  and  the  Parsees  making  their  even- 
ing worship  to  the  sea.  .  .  .  They  honour  by 
outward  reverence  all  great  manifestations  of 
goodness  and  power.  In  theory  the  sea  and  sun 
have  no  being,  no  soul,  no  power  to  will  or  do, 
and  are  not  treated  as  persons,  but  the  people 
declare  and  speak  out  by  outward  reverence 
their  admiration  of  the  greatness  and  benefits 
of  the  sun  and  sea. 

"Stopped  at  place  where  four  streets  met, 
and  sat  in  our  carriage  while  Bhawoo  Dajee 

[76] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

pointed  out  to  me  the  races,  castes,  nationalities, 
and  occupations  of  the  thronged  passers-by. 
He  knew  them  all  by  dress  and  feature  - 
Mohammedan,  Parsee,  Hindu,  Persian,  Arab, 
Nubian,  and  the  Marathis,  Gujerathis,  Sikhs, 
Bengalees,  Rohillas,  etc.  Among  them  were 
devotees,  fakhirs,  one  who  lived  under  a  log 
by  the  wayside,  and  wore  his  hair  to  the  waist 
uncombed,  and  lived  on  charity.  He  was  a 
travelling  fakhir,  and  had  seen  all  parts  of 
India,  going  from  temple  to  temple. 

"Then  to  the  dense  bazaars,  where  one  can 
hardly  breathe  for  the  closeness.  ...  A  Mo- 
hammedan beggar  stands  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  with  a  fan,  and  gives  a  single  stroke  of 
the  fan  toward  each  passerby.  Bhawoo  Dajee 
says  the  theory  is  that  every  benefit,  however 
slight,  calls  for  a  return,  and  a  whiff  of  a  fan 
in  the  heat  is  a  benefit,  and  he  is  to  be  compen- 
sated. .  .  .  All  houses  have  a  vestibule  to 
drive  under,  a  protection  against  sun  and 
rain.  .  .  . 

"My  friend,  Bhawoo  Dajee,  had  got  me  an 
invitation  to  a  party  at  the  home  of  a  Parsee 
millionaire,  one  Byramjee  Hormmusjee  Carna- 
jee.  ...  In  the  supper-room  a  long  table  is 

[77] 


MARRIED  1 

set  with  fruits,  flowers  and  cakes,  —  no  meats 
or  fish,  —  and  an  abundance  of  wine.  .  .  . 
From  the  dining-room  we  went  into  the  large 
saloon,  u  In  rt  seats  are  ranged  against  the  wall, 
on  three  sides,  the  outer  doors  being  the  fourth 
side.  At  the  head  of  the  room  are  the  seats  of 
honour,  and  from  these  the  guests  shaded  d<>\\  n 
to  those  of  the  lower  degrees  near  the  doors. 
.  .  .  The  entertainment  consisted  of  music 
and  dancing  by  Nautch  girls.  'I  his  is  the  usual 
entertainment  at  Parsee  and  Hindu  parties,  for 
their  ladies  are  never  present  and  they  never 
dance  themselves.  .  .  .  The  guests  sit  round 
the  three  sides  of  the  square,  the  Parsees  in 
high  receding  hats,  red  loose  trousers  and  white 
cassocks,  and  the  Hindus  in  turbans  of  all 
shapes  and  colours,  tunics  and  togas  wrapped  or 
draped  about  them,  and  all  without  stockings, 
and  some  without  shoes,  and  conforming  to 
the  European  custom  of  sitting  in  chairs,  they 
still  ease  themselves  occasionally  by  gathering 
up  one  leg  or  both  legs. 

"At  the  other  end,  by  a  pile  of  shawls  and 
cushions  on  the  floor,  sit  two  Nautch  girls, 
and  two  grave  musicians,  playing  on  stringed 
instruments. 

[78] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

"The  gravity  and  even  sadness  of  the  coun- 
tenances of  these  girls  was  most  striking.  It 
fascinated  you.  What  can  it  mean  ?  What 
hidden  grief?  What  concealed  sickness  ? 

"  Presently  the  elder,  who  is  perhaps  eighteen 
or  twenty,  rises  and  begins  the  dance.  She  is 
dressed  as  a  Persian,  in  a  rich  gown  coming 
to  the  knees,  with  pantaloons  below.  .  .  .  The 
dance  is  as  slow  and  dull  and  meaningless  as  I 
have  seen  it  described,  —  more  like  a  funeral 
solemnity  than  a  social  entertainment.  She  is 
a  Mahratta  girl,  of  that  warlike  race  that  so 
long  ruled  the  Carnatic  and  the  Deccan  and 
gave  so  much  trouble  to  the  English.  .  .  .  She 
is  very,  very  thin,  very,  very  sallow,  with  damp 
black  hair  parted  and  drawn  back  from  Jier 
ears,  and  deep,  deep  dark  eyes.  How  fixed,  sad, 
serious  is  their  look !  Is  this  all  mere  colour,  or 
is  it  character  ? 

"Now  the  girls  retire  and  come  in  again  in 
their  native  Hindu  dress.  The  graceful  mantle 
or  wrapper,  gathered  across  the  shoulders  and 
falling  as  drapery  to  the  figure.  .  .  .  Now  the 
girls  s,it  and  only  sing.  The  other  girl  is  only 
twelve  or  thirteen,  does  not  dance  at  all,  and 
only  sings  to  accompany  the  elder.  The  songs, 

[79] 


M  \KKII: i>  1. 1 1  i 

uhich  Bhawoo  Dajee  translates  to  me,  are  all 
light,  fanciful  love-songs,  and  here  .  .  .  the 
woman  is  the  lover,  the  adorer  and  the  suf- 
ferer. .  .  .  Before  leaving  we  have  bouquets, 
paun  soparets  (spices  and  betel  nuts  in  a  sopartf 
leaf),  and  were  sprinkli-d  \sith  rose-water. 

"Sunday,  July  22.  Rode  home  from  church 
over  Malabar  Hill,  from  the  Back  Bay,  a  pic- 
turesque scene  of  high  rocks,  deep  dells,  and  a 
climbing  carriage  way. 

"All  along  this  hill,  across  it  and  on  the 
western  slope  are  the  bungalows  of  all  who  can 
afford  to  live  out  of  town,  —  that  is,  afford  the 
necessary  horses,  carriages,  and  servants. 

"Spent  the  evening  with  my  kind  host  and 
hostess,  for  to-morrow  I  leave  India.  .  .  . 

"Monday,  July  23.  Stearns  goes  with  me  to 
the  pier,  .  .  .  over  which  the  monsoon  is 
pitching  the  waves  in  wild  confusion.  ...  At 
5  P.  M.  steam  out  of  the  Bay,  which  is  a  truly 
noble  harbour,  of  vast  dimensions,  yet  safe, 
and  in  the  dim,  cloudy  monsoon,  leave  the  far- 
outreaching  reefs  over  which  the  seas  are 
tossing,  behind  us." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns's  first  year  of  married 

[so] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

life  was  nearly  gone.  He  said  on  the  twenty- 
third  of  August,  1860:  "A  year  ago  to-morrow 
I  surrendered  my  independence.  It  was  the 
jolliest  operation  I  ever  went  into.  .  .  .  Not- 
withstanding I  thought  I  knew  Emmie  thor- 
oughly before  marriage,  I  was  hardly  prepared 
to  find  her  so  well  booked  up  upon  almost  every 
subject.  Had  the  United  States  been  searched 
through  and  through  for  a  better  girl,  it  would 
have  been  in  vain.  They  say  that  'love  is 
blind ';  luckily  in  my  case  it  don't  at  all  apply. 
.  .  .  We  are  as  happy  as  clams  at  high-water." 
"The  year  has  been  one  of  happiness,'* 
wrote  Mrs.  Stearns.  "We  have  both  enjoyed 
excellent  health.  Will  has  been  prospered  in  his 
business  [there  were  at  that  time  twenty  ships 
loading],  and  we  have  really  had  nothing  .  .  . 
at  which  to  repine.  Do  not  understand  me  to 
mean  that  we  do  not  miss  our  friends.  Far 
from  it.  You  cannot  entertain  such  a  thought 
for  a  moment.  .  .  .  We  love  our  friends  far 
too  well  to  be  willing  to  remain  so  far  from 
them  any  longer  than  necessity  requires.  .  .  . 
Let  me  tell  you  that  it  is  quite  in  fashion  to 
complain  of  living  here.  Many  of  the  English, 
especially  since  the  mutinies,  dislike  India  very 
[81  ] 


MARKH  i)  l.n  i 

much,  and  sigh  continually  for  the  time  when 
they  may  leave  the  country,  never  to  return. 
There  are  many  reasons  \vhuh  cause  this  feel- 
ing. Our  principal  otir  is  tin  fact  that  child n  n 
cannot  remain  here  after  the  age  of  five  or  six 
without  injury,  so  that  as  soon  as  they  reach 
this  age,  they  are  almost  invariably  sent  home, 
to  be  placed  with  friends,  or,  as  is  often  the 
case,  with  entire  strangers,  till  their  parents 
can  return  to  England,  or  till  they  are  of  age 
to  come  back  to  India  with  safety.  You  will 
see  that  a  large  majority  of  the  families  are 
broken  in  this  way,  and  do  you  wonder  that  the 
mothers  sigh  for  the  time  when  these  sad  sepa- 
rations may  be  ended  ?  Sometimes  a  wife  finds 
it  impossible  to  bear  the  Indian  climate,  and  is 
obliged  to  go  home,  leaving  her  husband  here, 
perhaps  with  no  hope  of  coming  out  again. 
A  friend  of  mine  has  just  now  gone  home,  with 
no  hope  of  seeing  her  husband  for  at  least  six 
years.  She  has  tried  three  times  to  remain  here, 
going  home  when  her  health  has  failed,  and 
then  returning  again  to  her  husband,  till  now 
she  is  obliged  to  give  up  all  hope  of  being  able 
to  bear  the  climate.  Her  husband,  being  in  the 
service,  could  do  nothing  at  home,  and  must 

[to] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY  - 

remain  for  six  years  till  he  can  get  a  pension  — 
when  he  may  hope  to  see  his  wife  and  children, 
if  they  are  spared  to  him  so  long.  .  .  .  You 
will  see  that  in  our  case  we  have  something  to 
draw  us  home.  This  little  boy  must  be  thought 
of,  and  I  hope  we  may  be  able  to  come  home 
as  soon  as  his  age  shall  demand  a  change. 
You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  the  climate  is 
considered  very  favourable  for  children,  till 
they  reach  the  age  I  have  mentioned." 

How  could  a  young  girl,  most  of  whose  life 
had  been  passed  on  a  New  England  farm,  fail 
to  be  swept  off  her  feet  by  the  splendour  of  this 
oriental  life  ?  Mrs.  Stearns  adapted  herself  to 
it  completely.  Superficially  speaking,  she  had 
had  no  preparation  for  it.  Was  it  her  unerring 
judgment,  her  clear-eyed  perception  of  the 
value  of  outside  things,  which  kept  her  un- 
spoiled ?  Or  did  a  premonition  of  the  change 
which  actually  came  "maintain  her  balance 
and  carry  her  with  dignity  through  great  pro- 
sperity into  the  sorrow  and  hardship  which 
ennobled  her  after  days  ? "  However  it  may  be, 
there  was  a  reason  deeper  than  mere  adaptabil- 
ity for  her  distinction,  her  grace,  her  poise. 


MARRIED  LIFE 

No  accomplishment  which  one  may  have 
spent  years  in  gaining  makes  a  universal  ap- 
peal; no  specialty,  bringing  the  homage  of 
half  the  world,  wins  the  praise  or  even  the 
interest  of  the  other  half;  not  even  the  posses- 
sion of  any  single  virtue  confers  certain  dis- 
tinction. The  only  thing  that  starts  a  warm 
pulse  of  sympathy  wherever  in  the  world  one 
goes,  the  thing  which  brings  a  sort  of  instinc- 
tive deference  from  a  Hindu  as  well  as  a  Pu- 
ritan, and  which  is  detected  at  a  glance,  is  the 
whole  of  a  person,  his  "consolidated"  char- 
acter, effected  by  a  life  of  self-control  and 
high  ideals.  Such  a  character  had  Mrs. 
Stearns. 

The  outward  events  of  her  married  life  made 
it  one  of  glittering  romance.  Yet  for  her  the 
romance  was  only  in  the  perfection  of  her 
home-happiness.  It  was  a  sort  of  prism 
through  which  she  beheld  all  the  glories  of 
India. 

A  study  of  Mr.  Stearns  only  serves  by  con- 
trast to  set  her  character  in  greater  relief.  His 
impulsive  enthusiasm  warmed  through  her 
"less  ardent  nature."  She  delighted  in  his 
happy,  winning  boyishness,  and  in  his  love  of 

[84] 


William  French  Stearns 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

mischief,  which  was  utterly  irrepressible.  On 
one  occasion,  in  Cambridge,  an  old  man  who 
sat  in  front  of  the  Stearns  family  at  church, 
found,  after  a  long  sermon,  his  queue  care- 
fully braided  on  to  the  pew,  and  only  inno- 
cent little  Willie  sat  behind !  He  never  did 
grow  up.  Teasing  was  his  delight,  and  he 
would  sometimes  snap  a  nut  across  the  table 
at  his  wife  in  the  midst  of  an  official  dinner  — 
much  to  her  dismay.  He  looked  on  the  world 
through  rose-coloured  glasses,  and  found  it  im- 
possible to  be  cast  down.  He  was  always  hope- 
ful, optimistic,  with  a  famous  sense  of  humour. 
There  was  a  kind  of  exuberant  good-fellow- 
ship about  him.  Yet  the  weakness  of  this  par- 
ticular trait  was  not  his.  He  did  not  lack  moral 
courage.  In  spite  of  his  impressionable  tem- 
perament, his  integrity  of  purpose  was  un- 
flinching. He  was  determined,  undespairing 
in  the  pursuit  of  a  high  aim.  He  "always 
expressed  the  utmost  indignation  at  vulgarity 
or  profaneness."  It  was  said  that  if  a  ques- 
tionable story  was  to  be  told,  it  was  never 
begun  till  Mr.  Stearns  had  left  the  room. 

The    hackneyed    phrase,    "generous    to    a 
fault,"  would  have  found  in  him  its  definition. 


MARRII  i>  I  u  i 

He  was  affectionate,  courteous,  thoughtful, 
comforting.  Kvery  one  wanted  to  confide  in 
him  immediately.  Asoneof  his  contemporaries 
expressed  it,  "There  was  never  any  need  of 
preliminaries  with  such  a  man/' 

Yet  his  bounding  mainspring  needed  a  con- 
trol.   He  relied  on  the  advice  and  unfailing 
intuition  of  his  wife,  which  he  never  followed 
in  vain.    He  trusted  her  judgment  entirely  - 
a  judgment  never  at  fault.   To  use  his  < 
expression,  "  I  have  an  unbounded,  mad  faith 
in  the  other  side  of  the  house."  She  gave  him 
stability.    An  elastic  sense  of  the  joy  of  life 
he  supplied  to  her.    They  perfectly  comple- 
mented each  other. 

As  has  been  said,  religion  was  their  supreme 
concern.  Indeed,  if  religion  is  not  the  supreme 
concern  of  strong  natures,  it  is  apt  to  seem  the 
subject  most  negligible,  although  the  inevitable 
results  are  so  different.  Had  their  views  on 
this  subject  differed,  she  once  said,  she  would 
never  have  married  him,  adding, "  A  love  which 
must  end  with  this  life !  —  I  confess  I  cannot 
care  for  anything  so  short-lived  and  unreal." 

A   moral  life  was  not  sufficient  to  them. 
Their  joy  lay  in  finding  out  God's  will ;  then, 
[86] 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  BOMBAY 

in  asking  for  His  help  to  carry  it  out.  As  they 
agreed  in  this,  their  ideals  and  aspirations, 
their  tastes,  even,  became  similar.  And  so,  after 
all,  their  lives  were  unified  by  that  great  "  force 
which  produces  love  to  God  and  service  of 
men." 


[87] 


II 

Matheran 

IT  was  the  custom  for  the  fashionable  world 
of  Bombay  to  withdraw  to  the  Hills  during  the 
rainy  season.  Poona,  shimmering  under  the 
steady  downpour  of  sunlight,  up  above  the 
storm-clouds  which  weighed  upon  Bombay, 
was  a  favourite  place.  But  Matheran,  among 
its  jungle  thickets,  a  quieter  and  more  retired 
spot,  was  Mrs.  Stearns's  paradise.  Mr.  Stearns 
wrote  to  his  brother  Frazar,  "  Matheran  is  a 
thousand-fold  more  beautiful  than  Poona,  and 
had  you  seen  it,  you  would  have  had  a  glimpse 
of  Indian  scenery  quite  equal  to  anything  this 
side  of  the  Himalayas.  It  is  a  place  of  most 
surpassing  loveliness  and  grandeur,  .  .  .  the 
views  are  magnificent  beyond  description.  We 
are  surrounded  by  the  tops  of  mountains.  On 
many  of  them  are  the  famous  4  Hill  Forts.'  .  .  . 
There  are  spots  where  you  can  look  sheer 
down  .  .  .  steep  precipices  into  the  valley  be- 
low, a  distance  of  twenty-seven  hundred  feet, 
[88] 


MATHERAN" 

and  see  the  trees  like  little  shrubs,  the  rivers 
like  little  silver  brooks,  and  the  mountains  in 
the  distance  like  little  hillocks.  .  .  .  There  are 
deep  dark  ravines,  chasms,  rents  and  fissures 
in  the  rocks.  I  was  absolutely  frightened  at 
the  beauty  of  some  of  the  places  Emmie  and 
I  visited  the  other  day." 

The  air  was  filled  with  the  foreign  odours  of 
flowers,  "jewelled"  butterflies,  and  birds  with 
startling  contralto  voices  —  all  steeping  in 
tropical  sunlight.  Mrs.  Stearns  first  saw 
Matheran  on  the  twentieth  of  October,  1860. 
Her  own  account  can  be  quoted.  "You  may 
imagine  that  my  coming  here  is  quite  an  event 
in  my  Indian  life,  for,  as  Mr.  Faithfull  re- 
minded me  on  our  way,  it  is  the  first  time  that 
I  have  been  on  the  continent  of  India. 

"  But  to  return  and  tell  you  why  I  am  here. 
It  was  thought  best  that  I  should  leave  Bom- 
bay during  the  month  of  October,  which  is 
considered  the  most  unhealthy  in  the  year. 
So  we  have  taken  a  cottage  of  Mr.  Faithfull's 
for  half  the  season,  the  season  being  three 
months.  I  came  up  just  a  week  ago  in  company 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Faithfull,  who  make  me 
their  guest  for  a  week  till  I  become  accus- 


M*AKKIKD    LlFE 

tomed  to  the  place,  and  then  leave  me  in  posses- 
sion of  the  cottage.  Will  is  obliged  to  remain 
in  Bombay  during  the  week,  but  comes  up  to 
spend  Sundays  .  .  .  of  course.  The  journey  to 
tins  place  is  an  easy  and  pleasant  one.  I  think 
we  left  Bombay  at  about  half-past  nine  o'clocjc 
in  the  morning,  travelling  for  fifty  miles  by 
cars  to  a  place  called  Narell.  .  .  .  After  taking 
a  tiffin  here,  we  commenced  the  ascent  of  the 
mountains,  Mr.  Faithfull  upon  a  horse,  Mr^. 
Faithfull  and  myself  in  palktes,  and  the  ser- 
vants upon  horses,  at  least  those  of  them  who 
consider  themselves  too  grand  to  walk!  The 
ascent  [eight  miles  of  break-neck  precipices] 
occupied  about  two  and  a  half  hours,  com- 
mencing in  the  most  fearful  heat,  and  ending 
by  our  being  obliged  to  make  use  of  all  the 
warm  clothing  we  had  with  us.  ...  We  are 
in  the  most  charming  climate  possible.  The 
early  morning  and  evening  are  very  cool,  so 
that  we  sleep  under  thick  blankets  with  the 
greatest  comfort.  The  middle  of  the  day  is  a 
little  warmer,  but  the  heat  is  entirely  different 
from  that  in  Bombay." 

The  "cottage"  was  a  long,  low  bungalow, 
surrounded   by  a  wide  veranda  in    the  midst 

[90] 


MATHERAN 

of  carefully  kept  gardens.  Mrs.  Stearns  loved 
to  sit  on  one  corner  of  this  veranda,  an  open 
book  in  her  lap  lying  idle  as  she  looked  down 
over  the  terraces  far  into  the  deep  valley,  a 
score  of  little  showers  at  one  time  trailing 
across  countless  miles  of  jungle  toward  the 
changing  lights  of  the  distant  mountains. 

Trees  here,  as  well  as  flowers,  have  their 
characteristic  tints.  In  the  midst  of  a  clump  of 
dark-green  mangos  is  a  "flame  of  the  forest," 
alive  with  darts  of  scarlet  flowers  among 
its  delicate  leaves.  Close  by  is  the  "fanlike 
foliage  of  the  palmyra,"  the  favourite  tree  of 
"  that  luxurious  bird,  who  lights  up  the  cham- 
bers of  its  nest  with  fireflies."  A  stalwart  cassia 
or  silken-plantain,  just  beyond,  wreathed  with 
vines  and  sheltering  families  of  orchids  in  its 
crotches,  is  making  its  individual  autumn. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  garden,  from  the  top 
of  a  tamarind,  a  giant  creeper  hangs,  on  its 
end  a  spreading  bird's-nest  fern,  which  sways 
slowly  like  a  great  candelabra.  The  mammoth 
things  of  the  world  grow  here ! 

And  yet,  close  by  the  path  crawls  the  sen- 
sitive plant,  fine-leafed,  exquisite,  whose  whole 
length  shrivels  under  a  touch.  And  there, 

[9'J 


MARRIED  Ln  i 

fluttering  over  the  roses,  is  a  new  butterfly,  its 
wings  a  film  of  lace-work.  How  does  it  fly  on 
those  wide,  gossamer  wings  ?  How  can 
weightless  body  resist  the  smallest  breeze  ? 
"All  the  thickets  rustle  with  small  life  of  li/- 
ard,  bee,  beetle  and  creeping  things."  Surely 
we  had  not  been  thinking  of  nature's  mammoth 
growths  —  but  of  her  most  delicate  creations ! 

From  the  sky-gardens  which  grew  in  the  tops 
of  the  trees  below,  the  breeze  brought  faint 
perfume.  "  It  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  the  home 
of  the  Peris,  those  beautiful  creatures  of  the 
air,  who  live  upon  perfumes."  The  very  atmo- 
sphere "seemed  full  of  utterances  that  you 
could  almost  hear  .  .  .  but  for  the  something 
that  made  them  all  a  mystery." 

A  soft-footed  Hindu  servant  came  to  present 
a  flower  to  Madame  Sahib.  A  wonderful  bird, 
a  pagoda  thrush  perhaps,  perched  close  by, 
and  after  a  moment  the  air  reverberated  with 
the  fervour  of  its  hollow,  ringing  song. 

Here  Mrs.  Stearns  studied  those  countless 
miracles  of  the  rainbow  insect  and  vegetable 
world  —  expressed  in  more  vivid  terms  than 
in  our  demurely  coloured  outdoors.  But  the 
prodigal  iridescence  on  a  tropical  butterfly's 

[92] 


MATHERAN 

wing  meant  more  to  her  than  the  mere  sight 
of  something  beautiful.  Could  it  be  hard,  in 
looking  at  the  butterfly,  to  imagine  what  the 
spirit  must  be  ? 

"And  as  I  was  walking  there,  and  looking 
up  on  the  sky  and  clouds,  there  came  into  my 
mind  so  sweet  a  sense  of  the  glorious  majesty 
and  grace  of  God  that  I  know  not  how  to 
express.  After  this  .  .  .  the  appearance  of 
everything  was  altered;  there  seemed  to  be, 
as  it  were,  a  calm,  sweet  cast,  or  appearance  of 
divine  glory  in  almost  everything.  God's  ex- 
cellency, His  wisdom,  His  purity  and  love 
seemed  to  appear  in  everything;  in  the  sun 
and  moon  and  stars,  in  the  clouds  and  the  blue 
sky,  in  the  grass,  flowers,  trees;  in  the  water 
and  all  nature." 

Mrs.  Stearns  was  never  alone.  During  the 
week,  she  and  her  guests  would  direct  the 
catching  of  the  gorgeous  butterflies  by  dark- 
eyed  boys  in  loose  white  garments  and  bung- 
ling turbans,  who  ran  about  among  the  flow- 
ers, fearless  of  the  relentless  sun.  During  a 
visit  home,  Mr.  Agassiz  saw  one  box  from  her 

[93] 


MARKII  i>  l.i-  •. 

collection.  She  told  him  to  take  those  he  cared 
for.  He  took  the  entire  box,  and  she  spent 
several  years  trying  to  duplicate  its  contents. 

I  here  were  many  bungalows  on  the  hill, 
and  on  Saturday  nights  the  men  came  out  from 
Bombay.  As  they  left  the  railway  miles  below, 
the  ladies  looked  down  and  watched  them  zig- 
zag upward  through  the  jungle,  along  a  path 
a  foot  wide,  with  high  precipices  up  on  one  side 
and  down  on  the  other.  Sometimes  as  they  were 
struggling  up  from  the  valley,  a  chattering  army 
of  gray  apes  descended  upon  them,  menacing 
and  terrifying  the  poor,  minute  ponies.  Mr. 
Stearns  would  laugh,  and  tugging  at  the  bri- 
dle of  his  little  frightened  steed,  would  de- 
clare: "Well,  he  won't  come  up,  so  I  suppose 
I've  got  to  take  him  up!" 

The  life  of  this  first  year  in  India  is  typical 
of  them  all.  It  continued  more  or  less  the  same 
throughout  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns's  stay  in  the 
East. 


[94] 


Ill 

Indian  Incidents 

THE  business  interests  of  Mr.  Stearns  were 
constantly  increasing.  He  was  made  a  director 
of  the  Bombay  Steam  Navigation  Company. 
He  was  interested  in  the  Red  Sea  cable  and  the 
telegraph  line  through  Persia.  Of  the  cable  he 
said,  "What  an  astonishing  achievement  that 
is !  ...  We  shall  be  within  twenty-four  hours' 
communication  in  case  of  necessity.  Think 
of  it !  .  .  .  On  and  after  the  first  of  January 
[1861]  our  house  will  be  changed  by  the  addi- 
tion of  Mr.  J.  L.  Hobart  of  Boston  [who  had 
come  five  months  previously]  as  a  partner, 
and  the  name  changed  to  Stearns,  Hobart  and 
Company.  .  .  .  He  brings  a  large  business 
and  by  the  connection  enables  us  to  become  the 
first  and  best  American  house  in  Western  India, 
with  the  prospect,  and  a  very  fair  one  it  is, 
of  the  first  position  in  the  East,  before  six  years 
have  passed."  Mr.  Hobart,  as  well  as  Mr. 
Healey,  who  had  returned  to  India  from  Boston, 

[95] 


MARRIFD  I 

lived  with  the  Stearnses.  Mr.  Stearns  con- 
tinued: "I  was  speaking  of  our  clerks;  did  I 
ever  tell  you  their  names  ?  My  first  is  named 
Masquirenas;  second  i  halt-caste),  Phillips; 
third,  Nuggindass;  fourth,  Maddaram;  fifth, 
Atmaram;  sixth,  Cassinath;  seventh,  Wassoo; 
eighth,  Kessoo;  ninth,  Narayen;  tenth,  don't 
know;  eleventh,  Mooljee;  twelfth,  Hurryvul- 
lubhdass;  thirteenth,  Hurry;  fourteenth  to 
twentieth,  don't  know.  Then  there  is  Pandoo- 
rang  and  Ruttonjee  and  a  host  of  others."  Of 
another  employee  he  says,  "His  name  is  Was- 
soo. I  learned  it  in  the  days  of  my  simplicity 
when  I  thought  that  a  name  was  a  necessary 
appendage  to  one." 

In  a  long  letter  written  to  his  father  on  the 
second  of  December,  1860,  Mr.  Stearns  tells  of 
the  baptism,  in  the  Mission  Church,  of  little 
William  Kittredge  Stearns.  The  congregation 
consisted  of  about  sixty  native  Christians.  He 
added:  "What  a  field  for  Christian  effort  here. 
...  A  man  cannot  live  here  long  without  hav- 
ing his  feelings  strongly  enlisted  in  the  cause  of 
missions.  Suppose  that  no  converts  are  ever 
made,  that  you  only  educate.  It  is  a  step.  .  .  . 
Oh,  how  lifeless  and  dull  the  best  of  Christians 

[96] 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

are !  Why  don't  they  do  more  ?  Why  don't 
they  pray  harder  and  give  more  ?  .  .  .  The  sun 
is  setting  rapidly  in  the  west.  How  I  should 
like  to  send  a  message  of  love  by  him  to  you 
all!" 

The  winter  passed  as  usual.  Mrs.  Stearns 
wrote:  "There  has  been  a  large  number  of 
balls  this  season,  given  by  members  of  the 
council,  and  others.  .  .  .  Last  week  we  were 
invited  to  one  at  the  house  of  Commodore 
Wellesley,  who  is,  I  believe,  a  nephew  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington.  .  .  .  We  have  formed  a 
choral  society  for  practising  choruses,  and  are 
learning  the  Messiah.  Mrs.  Faithfull  is  the 
chief  soloist.  She  is  attempting  to  cultivate  my 
voice  a  little.  .  .  .  Just  now  we  are  getting 
up  a  concert  for  the  sufferers  by  the  famine." 

Music  was  to  form  a  large  part  of  Mrs. 
Stearns's  Indian  life.  Her  own  voice  was  high 
and  very  sweet,  though  at  this  time  untrained. 
She  used  to  sing  every  evening,  and  delighted 
especially  in  Gounod. 

In  May,  1861,  Mr.  Hobart,  the  young  part- 
ner of  Mr.  Stearns,  died  in  agony  of  Bombay 
fever  at  their  house.  On  account  of  the  horror 
of  his  hallucinations,  his  final  illness  was  a 

[97] 


M  \Kki»  i)   I 

fearful  strain  for  them  both.  Mr.  Stearns  de- 
clared that  he  almost  broke  down  under  it. 
For  over  four  days  and  nights  neither  of  them 
slept.  Mrs.  Stearns  sat  with  the  dying  man  a 
large  part  of  the  time,  as  Mr.  Hobart's  bro- 
ther, who  was  at  the  house  also,  himself  went 
distracted  after  the  second  day  of  the  illness. 
Her  calmness,  a  form  of  bravery  in  which  she 
was  to  excel,  was  a  marvel  to  every  one.  It  was 
never  until  some  occasion  demanded  courage 
and  resolute  endurance  that  the  resources  of 
her  nature  were  unfolded.  After  Mr.  Hobart's 
death,  deeply  saddened,  they  went  away  to  the 
Hills  to  find  comfort  in  their  "  sweet  Matheran." 

After  spending  several  months  in  the  moun- 
tains, where  she  gained  peace  and  courage, 
Mrs.  Stearns,  with  Willie,  returned  to  Bombay 
in  September.  Mr.  Stearns  wrote,  "  Do  you 
know  what  swell  people  humble  little  Kitty 
and  lawless  Will  have  become  ?  Perhaps 
Emmie  will  tell  you  how  we  dined  with  the 
Commodore.  .  .  .  His  party  was  as  follows  ": 
—  and  he  enumerates  the  military  secretaries 
to  the  government,  the  council  of  the  gover- 
nor, the  nephew  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  etc. 

Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  to  Eliza  Stearns  from 

[98] 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

Bombay,  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  September, 
1861:- 

"Last  evening  Mrs.  Faithfull  had  a  musical 
soiree  at  her  house,  at  which  your  poor,  timid 
sister  was  'brought  out.'  I  mean  in  a  musical 
way.  As  Mrs.  Faithfull  has  been  saying,  'Now, 
Mrs.  Stearns,  you  have  been  practising  with 
me  for  some  time,  and  have  improved  your 
voice,  I  wish  to  bring  you  out  a  little.'  Painful 
as  this  seemed  to  me,  I  felt  obliged  to  submit, 
as  I  had  promised  in  the  beginning  to  do  what- 
ever she  told  me,  and  to  consider  myself  to 
all  practical  purposes  as  under  a  master.  .  .  . 
The  programme  of  the  evening  consisted  of 
three  parts  —  the  first,  selections  from  a  Stabat 
Mater  by  Pergolesi  ...  in  which  I  had  the 
soprano  part  and  a  duet.  The  second  part  com- 
prised, among  other  things,  an  instrumental 
trio,  a  sonata  by  Beethoven,  a  German  song 

by  our  German  friend,  Mr.  A .  .  .  and  a 

song  by  Madame  T—  — ,  a  most  cultivated 
French  singer.  At  this  point  in  the  programme 
we  indulged  in  ice  creams,  after  which  came 
selections  from  the  Creation.  We  sang  nearly 
all  the  choruses  and  I  had,  besides,  the  soprano 
parts  in  two  trios  and  one  solo.  We  had  for  an 

[99] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

accompaniment  the  piano  and  violins;  for  an 
audience,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  number,  but  a 
very  large  drawing-room  and  verandas  well 
filled.  .  .  .  The  evening  closed  with  a  sup- 
per. ... 

"  Knowing  my  timidity,  you  will  easily  un- 
derstand that  the  evening  was  an  anxious  one 
to  me.  It  was  my  first  trial  of  singing  alone 
before  so  many  people  (I  mean  in  Bombay), 
and  though  I  did  not  do  all  I  wished,  on  the 
whole  I  am  encouraged  to  persevere." 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that  after  this  Mrs. 
Stearns  was  called  the  "American  Nightin- 
gale"! 

A  very  characteristic  letter  describes  her 
genuine  joy  in  the  arrival  of  a  box  of  dresses 
for  Willie,  and  bonnets  and  patterns  for  her- 
self, from  which  her  tailor  would  make  her 
gowns. 

14  You  have  no  idea  how  much  pleasure  there 
is  in  the  reception  of  a  box  from  home.  .  .  . 
I  have  been  trying  on  the  'white  Chesterfield ' 
and  the  sacque  and  cape  this  morning.  You 
should  see  the  servants'  delight  at  Willie's 
appearance  in  them.  They  are  very  proud  of 
their  children's  appearance  in  the  street. 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

Cymon  has  just  been  telling  me  that  'plenty 
of  sahibs  say,  "  Kis  ka  baba  bai?"  (Whose 
baby  is  this?)  and  then,  "What  a  beautiful 
child  ! " '  He  is  often  saying, '  No  baby  so  pretty 
as  mine." 

For  Mr.  Stearns's  annual  vacation  of  four 
weeks  they  went,  in  October,  1861,  to  Maha- 
bleshwar,  which  Mr.  Stearns  described.  "By 
looking  upon  a  map  of  India,  away  to  the 
south  of  Bombay,  some  hundred  and  fifty  to 
two  hundred  miles,  you  will  see  the  above- 
named  place.  A  lovely  hill  station,  say  five 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean,  and 
one  of  the  finest,  if  not  the  very  finest,  sani- 
tarium in  India.  .  .  .  We  have  our  horses, 
which  were  sent  up  from  Bombay  —  by  sea 
to  Mahr,  on  the  Bankote  river,  then  to  Kola- 
pore,  and  from  there  to  Parr  Ghaut,  winding 
up  the  mountains,  a  distance  of  at  least  twenty- 
five  miles.  Over  this  road  we  brought  our 
phaeton.  ...  It  could  not  be  taken  up  by 
our  horses,  the  roads  being  so  steep  and  nar- 
row, but  was  dragged  by  a  force  of  forty-five 
coolies ! " 

During  all  this  time  nothing  has  been  said 
in  regard  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns's  attitude 


MARRIED  LIFE 

toward  the  American  Civil  War,  perhaps  just 
on  account  of  the  fact  that  their  thoughts  were 
constantly  occupied  with  this  absorbing  topic. 
Every  letter  is  full  of  their  anxieties,  or  their 
exultation  over  an  advance  made  by  the  Union 
troops,  the  horror  of  the  war,  and  comments 
upon  what  was  being  done  in  the  way  both 
of  fighting  and  of  administration.  As  Mr. 
Stearns  expressed  it:  "We  think  of  nothing, 
talk  of  nothing,  dream  of  nothing  else.  .  .  . 
I  sometimes  feel  that  if  I  could  go  home  to- 
morrow, and  by  the  sacrifice  of  my  life,  gain 
so  much  for  [our]  dear  native  land,  I  would 
go  with  shouts  and  thanksgivings.  .  .  .  Did  I 
not  feel  assured  that  I  have  another  work  to 
perform,  and  for  which  I  am  to  give  an  account, 
...  it  would  take  me  a  precious  short  time  to 
make  up  my  mind  about  coming  home  and 
going  into  the  army.  .  .  .  Oh,  how  anxiously 
we  wait  for  the  next  news  from  home!  The 
curtain  falls  on  the  most  exciting  part  of  the 
drama  and  we  must  wait,  wait,  wait.  How 
wearily  the  days  and  hours  pass!" 

To  his  brother  Frazar,  who  enlisted  as  first 
lieutenant  of  Company  I,  Twenty-first  Regi- 
ment of  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  Mr.  Stearns 
[   102] 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

wrote:  "I  have  learned  with  no  surprise  of  your 
entering  the  army.  I  quite  approve  of  your 
course.  ...  Be  temperate  in  all  things;  .  .  . 
don't  be  extravagant  in  either  your  expressions, 
wishes  or  expenditures.  I  need  not  tell  you  to 
be  kind  to  a  fallen  foe;  to  war  neither  against 
women  nor  children;  to  commit  no  excesses, 
and  to  frown  down  all  excesses  of  pillage  and 
kindred  vices.  .  .  .  Don't  be  boastful;  prove 
by  deeds,  not  by  words;  strive  to  bring  your 
men  up  to  your  own  standard ;  don't  stoop  to 
theirs.  Be  kind  to  them,  but  firm;  mix  with 
them  as  a  commander,  not  as  an  equal;  not 
setting  yourself  above  them  as  naturally  a 
superior  being,  but  as  one  who  has  attained  a 
position,  which,  with  diligence  and  good  con- 
duct, is  within  their  reach  also."  And  to  his 
father  he  said :  "  I  'm  glad  that  Frazar  is  in  the 
forefront  of  the  battle  where  he  may  strike  a 
blow  —  but  I  cannot  help  watching  and 
thinking  and  praying  intensely." 

In  India  they  had,  too,  the  further  dread 
of  war  with  England. 

"The  last  year  has  been  one  of  extraordinary 
trial  to  us  both,  and  this  is  at  the  end  of  three 
or  four  years  of  the  severest  and  most  unremit- 

[  103] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

ting  labour.  It  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  very 

few  to  work  as  I  have  worked,  and  mind  and 
body  both  need  quiet." 

They  decided  to  come  home  for  a  little 
Mrs.  Stearns  said,  in  a  Utu  r  •••.  utten  home  on 
the  twentieth  of  February,  1862:  "Will  is  not 
sick,  but  the  climate  and  the  pressure  of  busi- 
ness are  beginning  to  tell  upon  him.  People 
cannot  exert  themselves  here  as  in  a  colder 
climate,  and  Will  will  work.  ...  I  do  not 
know  another  merchant  who  has  so  much  care. 
.  .  .  Yet  I  feel  much  sadness  at  the  thought 
of  leaving.  .  .  .  There  is  the  breaking  up  of 
our  delightful  home  here,  the  dread  of  the  long 
[two  months]  journey  and  the  consciousness 
that  such  sad  changes  have  taken  place  at 
home.  God  grant  that  no  sadder  ones  may 
await  our  arrival,  and  that  no  one  from  the 
loved  circles  may  be  missing.  .  .  .  Mr.  Healey 
will  occupy  our  house  during  our  absence." 

The  last  letter  they  wrote  from  Bombay, 
on  the  second  of  March,  is  followed  by  one 
from  Paris  dated  April  23,  1862,  after  learn- 
ing of  Frazar's  death.  Mr.  Stearns  said  to  his 
father :  "  I  hardly  know  how  to  write  you  now. 
The  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  I 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

find  myself  have  no  parallel  in  my  limited 
experience.  .  .  .  Anticipating  eagerly  a  joy- 
ous meeting  with  the  dear  ones  at  home,  I  am 
appalled  on  my  arrival  here,  to  learn  that  one 
of  the  dearest  of  all  has  been  so  suddenly 
taken  from  us.  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  with 
you,  that  Frazar  was  in  the  hands  of  God. 
.  .  .  Nor  does  the  event  prove  my  mistake, 
though  the  blow  is  more  crushing  than  I 
could  have  believed,  .  .  .  and  though  he  has 
been  removed  in  the  midst  of  his  manly  prime 
and  beauty,  I  cannot  feel  but  that  his  is  the 
glorious  privilege  to  die,  and  ours  the  hard 
task  to  remain.  You  can  best  judge  of  the  con- 
sternation and  grief  into  which  dear  Emmie 
and  I  were  thrown,  when,  in  the  absence  of  a 
solitary  letter  from  home,  I  was  perusing  in  a 
home  paper  an  account  of  the  capture  of  New- 
bern,  to  come  suddenly  upon  the  account  of 
Frazar's  death.  .  .  .  How  can  I  offer  sym- 
pathy to  you  when  I  need  it  so  much  myself  ? " 
On  the  first  of  May  he  continued:  "We, 
with  our  feeble  intellects,  attempt  to  lift  the 
veil  and  learn  the  secret  of  God's  providence. 
We  think  we  can  pierce  the  deep  mystery  that 
envelops  the  Almighty.  The  veil  slowly  rises 

[  -05] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

• 

and  shows  us  —  our  own  impotcncy!  .  .  . 
Courage,  dear  father,  by  all  you  hold  dear  in 
this  life  and  in  the  life  to  come,  do  not  be  cast 
down;  by  the  comfort  which  you  have  carried 
to  many  a  sorrowing  heart,  by  the  strength  and 
consolation  that  I  know  God  gives  you  at  this 
time,  do  not  grieve!  .  .  .  Who  would  not  be 
proud  of  such  a  brother  ?  Dead,  yet  speaking 
in  words  of  living  light.  .  .  .  Sad,  glorious  and 
comforting ! " 

Mrs.  Stearns,  writing  on  the  same  day,  said  : 
"  I  confess  that  whenever  I  thought  of  the  visit 
home,  it  was  with  the  strong  feeling  that  it 
might  be  a  sad  visit.  Our  thoughts  were  always 
of  Frazar,  because  we  knew  him  to  be  exposed 
to  constant  danger.  .  .  .  The  last  letter  which 
we  received  from  Frazar  added  much  to  our 
anxiety  regarding  him.  It  was  written  in  so 
sad  a  strain,  so  full  of  tender  love  and  resigna- 
tion to  God's  will,  that  when  I  read  it,  it  seemed 
to  me  like  a  farewell  letter,  and  I  wept  over 
it." 

In  this  very  letter  Frazar  had  said  of  Willie: 

"Don't  love  him  too  well.    I   am   troubled 

whenever  I  look  at  him,  for  I  think  you  will 

not  have  him  long.  I  don't  know  why,  but  he 

[  106] 


INDIAN  INCIDENTS 

looks    more    like    an    angel    than    a    human 
being." 

From  Paris  they  went  to  London,  sailing 
from  Liverpool  in  late  May,  their  home  visit 
desolated  by  this  tragic  death. 


IV 

Various  Jogrneys 

WHEN  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  came  back  from 
India,  it  was  always  with  an  avalanche  of 
camphor-wood  boxes  —  cases  of  birds  and 
butterflies  for  the  boys,  and  wonderful  em- 
broideries and  dress-stuffs  for  the  girls.  There 
is  a  little  list  still  remaining  of  one  set  of  pur- 
chases, which  sounds  somewhat  as  if  it  had 
belonged  to  the  Lord  Treasurer  of  an  oriental 
Rajah.  Items:  "Persian  rug,  cashmeres,  scar- 
let and  gold  work,  fur  hood  and  cape,  carved 
teak  chairs,  carved  silver  bracelets,  Chinese 
embroidery  on  satin,  talc  paintings,  ivory 
fans,  sandalwood  boxes  and  bracelets,  rings, 
brooches,  .  .  .  Chinese  rice  paintings,  carved 
ivory  images  and  ornaments." 

Then  they  would  tell  stories  of  India,  of  the 
diamond  dust  between  the  eyelashes  of  the  wo- 
men to  make  their  eyes  sparkle,  of  the  "fairy- 
land cottage"  in  Matheran,  of  the  neat  little 
jungle-cock,  of  that  curious  bird  which  whis- 

[  108] 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

tied  like  an  idle  school-boy,  —  and  just  that 
was  its  name !  —  of  the  gallops  they  would  have 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  horse  free- 
reined,  his  rider  joyously  eager.  And  they  de- 
scribed the  woods  glittering  with  every  rainbow 
shade,  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  on  the 
horizon,  their  long  journeys,  —  the  calm,  blue 
weeks  on  the  Indian  Ocean,  —  and  all  the  dif- 
ferent colours  of  the  stars  at  night. 

Idolizing  younger  brothers  and  sisters  looked 
upon  them  as  visitors  from  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  could  hardly  make  them  seem  real 
until  they  had  gone  away  again,  leaving  pre- 
cious relics  behind  as  a  promise  for  the  future. 

On  their  way  back  to  India,  arriving  in  De- 
cember of  1862,  were  many  amusing  experi- 
ences, among  others  the  following:  "We  have 
had  no  less  than  four  heavy  seas  in  at  our  cabin 
windows  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  I 
have  had  several  duckings.  Our  clothes  have 
been  saturated.  But  this  morning  capped  the 
climax.  A  huge  sea  came  up,  burst  in  our  cabin 
windows,  and  nearly  smothered  us.  Emmie  and 
Willie  screamed,  and  I  laughed.  It  did  not  take 
long  for  all  hands  to  regain  their  composure. 
Poor  Willie!  He  looked  just  like  a  drowned 

[  109  ] 


MARRIED  l.n  . 

.  completely  drenched  from  head  to  foot.  I 
did  not  wonder  much  at  his  saying:  '  1  think 
so  plenty  water  come  in  this  room.' ' 

There  were  several  events  worth  mentioning 
in  the  winter  following.  Mr.  Stearns  had  dis- 
solved partnership  with  Mr.  Healey  on  the 
eighth  of  January,  1863,  and  Mrs.  Stearns's 
cousin,  George  A.  Kittredge,  came  to  Bombay 
to  become  Mr.  Stearns's  partner,  and  to  live 
with  them.  They  had  as  usual  a  house  full  of 
visitors,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chamberlaine,  mission- 
aries in  China,  staying  with  them  several  weeks. 
"The  Faithfulls,"  Mrs.  Stearns  wrote,  "are 
really  leaving  Bombay  in  a  few  days.  He  has 
been  appointed  Judge  of  Belgaum.  They  are 
dining  with  us  every  night.  The  day  after  they 
leave  we  are  going  to  Matheran."  (Mr. 
Stearns  bought  the  "lovely  hill  cottage"  from 
Mr.  Faithfull.)  Mrs.  Stearns  was  not  only 
helping  the  missionaries,  but  arranged  to  have 
their  pastor's  wife,  who  was  ill,  after  a  long 
visit  with  them  in  Bombay,  go  to  their  house  in 
Matheran  to  stay.  She  identified  herself  with 
the  work  for  good  in  Bombay,  as  in  every  com- 
munity in  which  she  lived. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  May,   1863,  Harold 
[  no] 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

Stearns  was  born.  They  could  not  decide  upon 
his  name,  and  so  he  went  for  several  months  by 
the  name  of  "Lot."  The  letters  of  both  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stearns  are  filled  with  the  pranks  of 
Willie,  the  progress  of  "Lot,"  and  household 
affairs. 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  his  sister  Eliza,  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  July,  1863  :  — 

"He  is  the  queerest  boy  about  some  things  I 
ever  saw.  You  can  never  astonish  him  or  make 
him  appear  surprised.  Sometimes,  when  I  have 
been  down  to  Bombay  from  Matheran  for  a 
week,  and  come  up  on  Saturday  night,  he  will 
hardly  notice  me.  After  two  or  three  hours, 
though,  the  affection  leaks  out.  .  .  .  'Lot* 
continues  to  bloom  and  blossom,  and  all  goes 
well,  thank  God !  .  .  .  Willie  has  just  gone 
out  on  his  pony  with  Cymon  and  Ana  —  you 
don't  know  the  latter  individual.  It  is  a  mina 
[a  small  bird]  that  Cymon  has  caught  and 
tamed.  It  follows  him  about  like  a  dog.  Just 
now  Ana  was  roosting  on  the  back  of  Floe  — 
the  pony.  Willie  was  mounted  on  a  new  little 
saddle  that  I  have  had  made  for  him.  .  .  .  And 
this  is  the  way  Willie  started  for  his  constitu- 
tional. .  .  .  There  comes  Willie  in  from  his 
[  m  1 


MARRIED  LIFE 

ride.  I  hear  him  calling 'Ana,  Ana,  Ana!'  He 
is  a  jolly,  good  little  boy  after  all,  if  he  is  mine. 
He  has  grown  very  fast  lately.  Emmie  thin  \ 
a  great  pity  that  children  won't  stay  pur. 

"Cymon  just  now  caught  my  groom  (ghora- 
wallah)  stealing  the  horses'  grains.  My  riding 
horse  has  been  particularly  logy  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  I  have  suspected  that  he  did  not  get  his 
full  allowance.  You  may  not  know  that  the 
grain  which  we  give  horses  here  is  much  like 
dried  peas  and  is  a  most  palatable  article  of 
food  for  both  man  and  horse.  Well,  just  now 
Cymon  caught  the  fellow  making  away  with 
about  half  of  my  horse's  allowance,  the  beggar ! 
We  yesterday  turned  off  our  butler  for  making 
the  daily  account  too  large,  and  my  coachman 
is  in  gaol  for  debt;  .  .  .  our  dhobit  stole  some 
of  our  clothes  and  we  had  to  put  a  policeman 
on  his  track.  Mallee  tries  to  hook  a  part  of  the 
cow's  milk,  and  the  baker  tries  to  turn  us  off 
with  number  two  bread !  All 's  not  gold  that 
glitters,  particularly  in  India.  ...  I  think 
that  some  day  I  shall  write  a  volume  of  '  1  \- 
periences  while  in  Bombay." 

The  thirtieth  of  August,  1863,  Mr.  Stearns 
wrote  from  Poona:  "The  bigotry  and  super- 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

stition  of  Poona  are  unequalled  in  this  part  of 
India.  There  are  more  idols  and  idol  temples 
in  the  native  town  than  in  any  other  city  or 
town  anywhere  near  us.  Indeed  the  chief  seats 
of  idolatry  in  India  are  Benares  and  Poona. 
Poona  is  ...  the  principal  military  station  in 
the  Presidency.  The  European  part  of  the 
community  is  nearly  as  large  as  in  Bombay. 
.  .  .  The  city  is  just  far  enough  away  from  the 
Ghauts  to  be  out  of  the  influence  of  the  heavy 
rains  which  fall  along  the  entire  length  of  the 
range.  It  is  high  enough  (two  thousand  feet) 
above  Bombay  to  be  out  of  the  influence  of  the 
damp,  depressing  climate  of  the  plains,  and 
to  glory  in  the  cool,  comfortable  mountain 
breezes,  which,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  make 
some  parts  of  India  so  pleasant.  It  is  cloudy 
most  of  the  time,  our  rain  falls  in  gentle 
showers,  the  nights  are  cold  enough  to  make 
blankets  comfortable.  I  should  think  the 
thermometer  would  average  during  the  day  not 
over  75°.  In  April  and  May  when  the  hot 
winds  blow  and  everything  becomes  parched 
and  dry,  it  is  fearfully  warm;  but  with  the 
exception  of  October,  which  is  rather  uncom- 
fortable, I  don't  think  a  pleasanter  climate 


MARRIED  I 

could  be  found.  Bombay  from  November  to 
March,  Matheran  from  April  to  June  (or 
Mahableshwar),  Poona  from  June  to  October, 
and  again  Matheran  or  Mahableshwar  from 
that  time  on  even  to  December,  and  you  have  a 
round  of  as  fine  weather  as  can  be  found  any- 
where, on/y,  it  is  n't  home!  More  and  more  I 
begin  to  feel  that  there  is  nothing  equal  to  New 
Kngland  springs,  New  Kngland  summers,  New 
England  autumns,  New  Kngland  winters.  .  .  . 
So  if  I  still  continue  to  be  prospered,  don't  be 
startled  some  day  to  get  a  letter  saying  that  I 
mean  to  come  home  before  1875  for  good,  if 
nothing  happens  to  prevent.  Faithfull  is  going 
home  next  spring,  I  think,  and  more  than  half 
the  charm  of  India  will  be  lost  to  us  with  their 
departure.  It  is  very  strange  that  Faithfull  and 
I  should  so  pull  together,  and  Mrs.  Faithfull 
and  Emmie  are  about  as  loving  a  pair  as  you 
ever  saw." 

From  Poona,  Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  Eliza,  on 
the  seventh  of  September,  1863:  — 

"Did  I  not  write  you  in  my  last  letter  that 
we  were  trying  to  get  a  house  in  Poona  ?  We 
found  one  at  last,  and  thankful  enough  was 
I.  ...  It  bears  comparison  with  our  sweet 

[«*•] 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

Matheran,  for  I  almost  feel  there  that  I  am  in 
another  world.  .  .  .  Poona  is  like  home  in 
many  respects.  It  is  a  large  city,  and  yet  in  that 
part  of  the  town  in  which  our  bungalow  is  sit- 
uated, the  houses  are  much  scattered,  so  that  we 
are  quite  as  much  in  the  country  as  we  could 
be  in  any  part  of  Amherst.  From  the  back  of 
our  bungalow  we  have  delicious  green  fields  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  The  drives  are  de- 
lightful and  we  have  a  band  of  music  nearly 
every  night.  As  I  have  my  carriage  and  horses, 
Will  his  riding  horse,  and  Willie  his  pony,  we 
enjoy  these  much.  .  .  .  Will  and  I  generally 
go  out  before  breakfast  on  what  I  term  a 
'beetle  hunt,'  and  it  is  so  cool  that  we  are  able 
to  be  out  oftentimes  until  nine  o'clock  without 
any  harm.  .  .  .  During  the  rains  the  Govern- 
ment is  removed  from  Bombay  here,  and  nat- 
urally all  the  elite  and  fashion  follow,  so  that 
there  is  a  continual  round  of  parties.  .  .  .  Only 
fancy  Will  leaving  his  business  to  remain  here 
for  two  or  three  weeks  at  a  time,  and  as  con- 
tentedly as  possible !  He  has  been  here  a  fort- 
night, has  now  gone  to  Bombay  for  the  mail, 
will  return  in  two  or  three  days,  when  he 
intends  going  to  Ahmednagar,  the  seat  of  our 

[  "5] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

missions,  in  company  with  Mr.  Fairhank,  one 
of  our  missionaries  from  that  place,  \\ho  is 
now  visiting  Poona.  .  .  . 

"We  have  purchased  a  nice  collection  of 
mim-rals,  mostly  from  the  '  Bhore  Ghaut,' 
from  a  Major  Evershard." 

Mr.  Stearns  continued  the  story  of  the  beetle 
hunts:  — 

"We  have  had  a  rare  good  time  the  last  day 
or  two,  and  have  added  a  number  of  specimens 
to  our  collection  of  rare  critters.  We  found 
lots  of  scorpions,  but  these  we  don't  collect." 
A  little  later :  "  I  have  .  .  .  some  few  very  fine 
nests  and  eggs  .  .  .  from  the  Celebes  Islands, 
from  a  friend.  .  .  .  We  have  several  very 
beautiful  collections,  one  of  insects,  one  min- 
erals, one  birds,  and  one  of  shells";  and  subse- 
quently "one  of  bird-skins,  about  two  hundred 
and  forty  altogether." 

A  week  or  two  later,  Mr.  Stearns  went  to 
Ahmednagar. 

"I  left  the  latter  place  [Poona]  last  Friday 
week,  and  after  pushing  through  seventy-two 
miles  of  muddy  roads,  with  the  most  miserable 
creatures  that  the  world  has  ever  produced  in 
the  shape  of  horses,  in  thirty  hours,  arrived  at 
[  M6] 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

Nagar.  .  .  .  Did  n't  I  enjoy  a  treat !  I  was 
perfectly  astonished  by  what  had  been  done  by 
the  missionaries.  I  never  before  knew  one 
tenth  part  of  the  good  accomplished,  and  I  say 
it  from  my  heart,  I  am  ashamed  that  I  ever 
before  thought  I  knew  anything.  .  .  .  The 
governor  lately  visited  our  mission  schools  and 
says  that  they  are  far  ahead  of  the  Government 
schools.  .  .  .  My  feelings  have  changed  re- 
garding missions  since  I  came  to  India.  .  .  . 
Nowhere  can  you  find  a  more  ardent  sup- 
porter than  I." 

At  this  time  he  made  large  donations  to  that 
mission,  for  the  support  of  thirty  boys  and 
thirty  girls,  gave  funds  for  the  support  of  new 
chapels  and  schoolhouses,  as  well  as  teachers 
and  native  preachers.  It  is  interesting  to  know, 
too,  that  a  little  girl  who,  attracted  by  music 
to  the  mission  school,  ate  with  the  Christian 
teachers,  lost  caste  and  was  shut  up  for  two 
days  by  her  mother,  getting  out  with  the  help  of 
a  sympathizing  uncle,  and  entering  the  school 
at  last,  was  supported  from  that  time  on  by 
Mrs.  Stearns.  In  parenthesis,  the  money  col- 
lected by  Mrs.  Stearns's  pupils  as  a  memorial 
to  her,  was  sent  to  this  school. 

[  117] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

To  Mr.  Stearns  "everything,  the  whole  busi- 
ness of  life,  was  an  affair  of  trusteeship.  .  .  . 
I  IK-  distribution  of  funds  that  God  had  placed 
in  his  hands,  for  purposes  of  distribution,  was 
not  regarded  by  him  as  charity,  but  as  a  pair 
of  the  business  devolving  upon  him  as  the 
Lord's  steward."  At  this  time  he  wrote  to 
President  Stearns  that  he  was  "thinking  seri- 
ously "  of  giving  a  new  chapel  to  Amherst  Col- 
lege. He  wished  it  to  be  "a  stone,  Gothic 
chapel,  .  .  .  combining  simplicity,  solidity, 
beauty;  ...  an  appropriate,  interesting,  ele- 
vating affair,  ...  a  model  of  ...  style,— 
well  proportioned,  in  good  taste,  for  the  stu- 
dents to  study."  His  gift  should  "hinge  en- 
tirely on  this,  the  trustees  accepting  it  on  con- 
dition that  it  should  never  be  used  for  secular 
purposes.  .  .  .  Let  it  be  given  solely  for  public 
worship,"  he  said.  "Would  not  this  cover 
everything  ? " 

About  this  time,  also,  he  built  the  Stearns 
Mission  Chapel  on  Harvard  Street,  in  Cam- 
bridge, and  encouraged  enlistments  in  the  Civil 
War  in  both  Cambridge  and  Amherst, "  by  a  lib- 
eral addition  to  the  bounties  of  the  soldiers." 
His  financial  standing  at  this  time,  he  said,  he 

t  us] 


VARIOUS  JOURNEYS 

"could  not,  even  in  [his]  wildest  dreams,  have 
dared  hope  to  reach."  Besides  his  regular 
business,  he  was  "  Manager  of  the  Bombay  and 
Bengal  Steamship  Company,  ...  a  director 
of  the  Royal  Bank  of  India,  ...  a  director 
in  the  Goa  Oil  Mills,  ...  to  say  nothing  of 
the  prospective  agency  of  one  of  the  largest 
New  York  Insurance  Companies  and  the 
probable  manager  of  another  large  local  insur- 
ance company  here.  .  .  .  We  are  likely  to 
have  a  branch  of  our  house  at  Bushire  in  Persia, 
and  Kurrachee  in  Sind,  with  a  prospect  of  one 
eventually  in  London." 

Yet,  writing  on  the  nineteenth  of  July,  1863, 
he  said  :  "With  regard  to  the  future  I  can't  say 
that  I  am  without  apprehensions.  No  true  man 
or  merchant  can  or  ought  to  be  without  them, 
and  though  at  present  my  sea  is  smooth  and 
my  sky  clear,  I  know  too  well  that  there  are 
storms  which  drive  the  staunchest  ships  on  the 
rocks,  and  waves  so  large  that  the  loftiest  bark 
may  be  engulfed.  I  hope  for  the  best,  —  and 
the  best  I  try  to  bring  myself  to  know  and  be- 
lieve, is  God's  wish  and  will.  .  .  .  He  has 
trusted  me  and  largely;  if  He  sees  fit  to  take 
away  from  me  that  with  which  He  has  trusted 


MARRIED  LIFE 

me,  while  I  am  too  human  not  to  be  deeply 
disappointed,  I  shall  hope  to  say  that  ir  is  I  its 
will,  and  so,  instead  of  settling  dov.n 

with  a  drieil-up,  narrow,  mean  course  of  life, 
keep  stirring  about  till  I  find  what  He  wants 
of  me.  Of  one  thing  I  am  surf :  that  not  a  man 
has  ever  yet  been  made  without  some  great  and 
uise  purpose;  and  that  God  does  not  create 
for  nothing.  So  I  shall  strive  to  find  out  what 
He  wants,  and  if  I  don't  find  it,  it  will  be  time 
enough  for  me  to  grow  sour,  weary,  shiftless 
and  miserable.  .  .  .  Perhaps  this  feeling  is 
wrong.  Don't  you  find  it  awfully  hard  some- 
times to  tell  the  tares  from  the  wheat  —  espe- 
cially when  they  are  very  young,  and  very 
green,  and  very  tender  ? " 


[  '20  ] 


V 

The  Persian  Gulf 

AFTER  Mr.  Stearns's  vacation  in  Poona  was 
over,  Mrs.  Stearns  went  to  Matheran  for  a 
short  time,  returning  to  Bombay  in  November. 
Sometime  before,  Mr.  Stearns  had  written  to 
his  sister  Eliza:  "I  am  contemplating  a  trip 
to  Persia,  Turkey  in  Asia,  and  Arabia;  would 
you  go  ?  .  .  .  The  chances  are  about  even,  I 
believe,  between  returning  and  getting  one's 
throat  cut.  It  seems  a  great  pity  to  have  a 
thundering  Persian  kill  you,  when  you  might 
sacrifice  your  life  to  advantage  for  your  coun- 
try." 

His  reason  for  going  there  was  to  select  a 
suitable  locality  for  establishing  a  Persian 
branch  of  his  house.  He  left  Bombay  on  the 
eleventh  of  November,  1863.  He  kept  a  very 
full  journal,  part  of  which  was  sent  to  Mrs. 
Stearns  during  his  absence,  part  of  which  he 
brought  back  to  her.  It  has  been  hard  to  omit 
any  of  it,  especially  when  I  remember  that  these 
[  MI] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

very  leaves  have  been  turned  by  Mrs.  Ste;i 
and  all  the  events  described  here  have  been  lived 
over  by  her  so  many,  many  times;  but  space 
is  lacking  to  quote  it  all.     I  lu  journal  begins . 

"  November  22, 1863.  On  board  the  S.  S.  Co- 
ringa.  —  We  have  sailed  from  the  good  to\\n 
Bunder  Abbas.  .  .  .  This  place  is  under  the 
Imam  of  Muscat  and  governed  for  him  by  one 
of  his  sheiks.  We  were  received  in  the  hall  of 
state  by  the  good  sheik.  .  .  .  Theoldmanhad 
collected  all  the  great  men  of  the  village  with 
all  the  eminent  strangers  there  to  greet  us.  .  .  . 
There  were  in  all  about  a  hundred  people 
gathered  together,  .  .  .  Arabs,  Persians,  Hin- 
dus, Moguls,  and  one  wild  man  of  the  desert, 
a  pucka  Bedouin,  a  restless,  wild-looking  spirit, 
fiery,  wiry,  and  wildly  handsome.  We  were  all 
treated  to  coffee  which  the  sheiks  drank  with 
us.  ...  Then,  after  some  little  conversation, 
we  were  sent  off  under  an  escort  of  two  men 
to  see  the  town.  .  .  .  We  were  attracted  by  the 
sound  of  native  music,  tom-toms  and  the 
firing  of  guns,  [and  turned]  toward  a  large  inclo- 
sure  where  a  grand  dance  was  taking  place  . 
prior  to  a  circumcision.  ...  At  Lingah  Kur- 
[  122  ] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

rachee  we  breakfasted  at  Government  house 
with  the  commissioner,  and  then  spent  the  day 
driving  out  to  Nugger  pier  to  look  at  the  croco- 
diles. .  .  .  I  could  almost  have  hugged  Cymon 
when  he  said  to-day:  'I  think  so  not  another 
such  like  woman  as  Madame  Sahib  in  all  the 
world.'  He  said  too/ When  I  first  saw  Madame 
Sahib,  then  I  know  I  like  her.  First  time  I 
heard  her  voice  and  saw  her  walk  then  I  know 
she  is  very  good.'  .  .  . 

"December  16.  Since  last  I  sat  down  to 
write  you,  precious  wife,  you  have  come  nearer 
being  a  widow  than  at  any  time  since  our  mar- 
riage. .  .  .  Thank  God  I  am  here  to-day, 
alive  and  well  and  able  to  tell  you  the  story 
of  the  horrors  through  which  we  passed  on  the 
night  of  December  seventh.  .  .  . 

"  I  write  now  on  board  the  corvette  of  war 
of  H.  H.  the  Imam  of  Muscat,  Prince  of  Wales, 
eleven  guns.  The  ship  [is]  commanded  by  a 
most  pleasing  gentlemanly  Arab.  .  .  . 

"We  arrived  safely  at  Muscat  from  Bunder 
Abbas  early  on  the  morning  of  the  seventh,  went 
on  shore  .  .  .  passed  a  very  pleasant  day  .  .  . 
and  went  off  to  the  ship  about  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  We  were  to  sail  at  two  A.  M. 

I 


MARRIED  l.n  i 

I  consequently  turned  in  at  once  in  order  to 
get  a  rest  before  being  waked  by  the  noise  of 
departure.  .  .  .  About  half-past  one  or  t 
o'clock,  I  was  awakened  by  the  captain's  voice. 
He  seemed  to  be  running  out  of  his  cabin, 
towards  the  bridge,  and  was  shouting,  'Let 
go  the  other  anchor !  Let  go  the  other  anchor ! ' 
At  the  same  moment  ...  a  heavy  body 
struck  the  ship.  .  .  .  My  first  impulse  was 
to  rush  on  deck,  just  as  I  stood ;  my  second  was, 
no  matter  what  may  happen  the  ship  can't 
sink  at  once;  take  your  time;  keep  cool,  dress 
yourself,  so  that  in  case  you  are  wrecked,  you 
won't  be  entirely  destitute;  look  out  for  your 
watch  and  valuable  papers;  open  your  box 
and  put  whatever  gold  you  may  have  in  your 
breast-pocket,  for  you  will  need  it;  but  don't 
trouble  yourself  about  silver :  it  will  prove  too 
weighty.  All  these  impulses  I  obeyed,  and  was 
on  deck  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time. 
.  .  .  The  sight  which  greeted  my  eyes  when 
I  got  on  deck  surpasses  belief.  It  was  blowing 
hard,  a  heavy  sea  on,  and  we  had  drifted  right 
across  the  bow  of  a  large  ship  which  I  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  vessels  of  war  of  the  Imam. 
There  we  lay,  and  at  each  rise  and  fall  of  the 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

waves  the  huge  man-of-war  ascended  and  then 
fell  with  the  force  of  a  thousand  trip-hammers 
upon  us.  At  every  blow  there  was  a  terrific 
crash  and  cracking  of  timbers  so  fearful  that 
[I  thought]  both  vessels  would  sink.  With  the 
blows  was  mingled  the  strangest  confusion  of 
noises  that  I  ever  listened  to.  The  hoarse  calls 
of  the  captain  and  officers,  the  yells  of  the  las- 
cars,  screams  of  the  women  and  children, 
neighing  of  horses,  cackling  of  hens,  and  the 
loud  calls  of  our  Arab  friends  upon  Allah : 
'Ob,  Allah  Akbar!'  .  .  .  < Allah  Akbar!'  We 
had  on  board  a  rich  Nawab  from  Bagdad  with 
some  horses  to  run  in  the  Bombay  races.  A 
more  dejected,  frightened  man  I  never  saw. 
Seizing  me  by  the  hand  he  cried:  ' Kya  hai, 
Stearns  sahib  —  kyabai  ?  Ob  arra  kya  karegaf" 

"I  said:  ' Kooch  mut  bolo  —  kooch  fickunay 
—  sub  uchcba  karega!' 

"Stearns  sahib,'  he  replied,  'Such  bhat 
bolta  ?'  and  wrung  my  hands  as  though  I  could 
save  him. 

"  The  passengers  were  generally  much  fright- 
ened, and  the  crew  seemed  to  hardly  know 
what  to  do  or  whom  to  obey.  ...  I  rushed 
forward  to  where  the  vessels  were  striking, 

[  125] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

and  saw  our  second  officer  on  the  top-gallant 
forecastle  of  the  man-of-war,  the  Raharnany, 
loudly  calling  for  help.  He  was  so  excited  he 
could  hardly  speak,  I  mean  he  hardly  knew 
\\hat  to  say.  He  was  calling  for  men  to  help 
him  let  go  the  chains  of  the  Rabamany,  bur 
one  responded.  As  the  big  ship  came  down  upon 
us  with  one  of  her  terrible  thumps,  1  sprang 
upon  the  rail  of  the  Coringa,  caught  the  head 
of  the  Rahamany,  and  scrambled  up,  only  to 
tumble  down  the  ladder  of  the  latter  upon  her 
deck,  scraping  my  shins  and  bruising  my  hand. 
It  was  no  time  to  stop  for  shins,  so  I  picked 
myself  up,  joined  the  mate,  and  for  one  hour 
worked  hard  with  him  attempting  to  slacken 
the  Rahamany's  chains.  .  .  .  All  this  time 
the  two  vessels  were  rolling,  striking,  grinding 
together,  and  bit  by  bit,  perhaps  I  had  better 
say  by  wholesale,  tearing  away  rigging,  masts, 
yards,  rails,  etc.  At  every  roll  the  mizzen- 
mast  of  the  Coringa,  the  supports  of  which 
had  been  carried  away,  threatened  to  fall  and 
crush  us  who  were  working  at  the  chains  of  the 
Rahamany.  It  shook  and  wavered  backward 
and  forward  like  a  reed,  and  each  roll  seemed 
positively  to  be  the  last.  .  .  . 

[  126] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

"As  the  ships  separated,  the  second  mate 
succeeded  in  getting  on  board  the  Connga. 
I  was  left  on  board  the  Rabamany  with  several 
of  the  lascars  and  people,  who,  by  this  time, 
began  to  come  off  from  the  shore.  ...  I  had 
been  there  but  a  few  moments  when  suddenly 
the  Coringa  began  to  move  toward  the  rocks, 
which  were,  I  should  judge,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  .  .  .  Her  distress  signal-guns  firing  and 
blue  lights  burning  could  not  be  mistaken,  and 
I  at  once  set  myself  to  work  to  save  life.  .  .  . 
You  must  imagine  my  horror,  my  pen  is  not 
equal  to  the  task  of  describing  it.  I  succeeded 
in  getting  off"  some  three  boats  in  all,  one  of 
them  containing  a  hawser  which  was  after- 
wards used  in  hauling  the  steamer  off,  and,  at 
early  dawn,  left  the  Rabamany.  I  succeeded, 
though  not  without  some  difficulty,  in  getting 
on  board  the  Coringa,  and  found  that  the  pas- 
sengers had  all  been  safely  landed." 

[For  saving  many  lives,  Mr.  Stearns  was 
commended  in  all  the  Bombay  papers.] 

"Cymon  stood  by  the  wreck  and  had  been 
holding  on  to  my  black  box  which  contained 
my  valuables.  I  afterwards  learned  that  he 
had  resolved  to  swim  on  shore  with  it!  .  .  . 

[  127  ] 


•  MARRJED  In  > 

Suffice  it  to  say  that,  although  in  the  greatest 
peril,  when  almost  every  other  soul  on  board 
thought  only  of  self,  he  stuck  to  the  black  box 
as  though  it  was  a  child!  As  tin  steamer  was 
then  making  water  very  rapidly,  we  got  all 
our  baggage  out,  the  horses  at  great  risk  of 
life  and  limb  were  safely  landed,  and  the  cargo 
discharged.  Strange  to  say  not  a  horse  was 
hurt.  We  had  some  fifteen  in  all,  and  they 
were  close  to  where  the  big  ship  broke  our  poor 
bones.  Among  the  horses  were  four  belonging 
to  myself. 

"...  And  now  for  the  strangest  part  of 
this  romance.  After  beating  for  over  thirty 
hours  on  the  rocks,  after  the  water  had  in- 
creased so  rapidly  that  it  was  supposed  that  in 
a  few  hours  the  vessel  would  be  a  total  wreck, 
the  wind  suddenly  moderated,  she  was  hauled 
off,  the  pumps  gained  on  the  leak,  and  the 
vessel  was  freed  from  water.  ...  A  survey 
was  held  inside,  one  or  two  weak  spots  strength- 
ened, and  the  hull  was  pronounced  all  right! 
The  engine  was  untouched,  and  neither  the 
screw  nor  rudder,  though  thumped  for  so  long 
a  time,  was  in  any  way  injured !  Indeed,  so 
strong  was  this  vessel,  that  .  .  .  she  was  pro- 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF  • 

nounced  fit  for  sea  and  ready  to  sail  for  Bom- 
bay, .  .  .  five  and  a  half  or  six  days  after 
the  accident!  Before  you  see  this,  judging 
from  the  calms  we  have  had  since  leaving 
Muscat,  the  Coringa  will  have  proved  her  vital- 
ity by  a  safe  arrival  in  Bombay." 

A  description  of  Mr.  Stearns's  Arabian 
horses,  written  to  his  sister  Eliza  at  the  same 
time,  may  be  quoted.  "While  I  was  at  Bu- 
shire,  the  President,  a  sort  of  governor,  re- 
ceived orders  from  Bombay  to  break  up  his 
establishment.  .  .  .  Now,  Colonel  P is  fa- 
mous among  horsemen.  His  horses  are  known 
and  appreciated  throughout  the  East.  And 
he  was  obliged  to  sell,  at  once,  his  entire  stud. 
I  thought  it  an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost,  and 
made  him  an  offer  for  four,  which  he  finally 
accepted.  .  .  .  One  of  these  is  a  great  pet. 
His  name  is  Pearl.  .  .  .  He  is  what  they  call 

a  Nejd  Arab,  and  Colonel  P says  is  the 

highest  caste  horse  he  has  ever  seen.  This 
horse  is  a  perfect  beauty,  .  .  .  small,  plump, 
of  magnificent  proportions,  with  an  eye  as  soft 
as  a  pretty  girl's,  and  a  nose  that  can  smell  a 
battle  a  hundred  miles !  [This  animal  became 
Mr.  Stearns's  pet  riding  horse.]  .  .  .  Colonel 
[  129  ] 


MARRIED  1 

P left  an  order  with  the  sheik,  a  friend  of 

his,  to  buy  him  a  fine  horse,  and  [the  next] 
one  was  selected  as  the  best  horse  that  was  seen 
in  Koweit  (the  port  from  which  almost  all 
Arab  horses  are  shipped)  during  last  year. 
He  is  a  beautiful,  large,  and  very  powerful 
animal.  .  .  .  His  name  is  Sheik.  The  next  is  a 
pure,  high  caste  Arab,  well  made  and  very  fast. 
.  .  .  This  horse  is  named  Will-o'-the-Wisp. 
.  .  .  My  last  horse  is  a  large  chestnut,  with  a 
small  quantity  of  Persian  blood  in  his  veins. 
This  horse  I  don't  like.  He  is  a  fine-looking 
animal,  but  vicious.  .  .  .  His  name  is  Teazer. 
.  .  .  Besides  this  we  have  at  Bombay  Emmie's 
and  my  riding  horses,  Emmie's  pair,  my 
office  horse,  another  horse  for  office  named 
'Abe  Linkin*  on  account  of  his  legs,  George 
Kittredge's  riding  horse,  Willie's  pony,  and  I 
am  expecting  two  ponies  from  Burmah." 

[What  follows  is  taken  partly  from  the  letter, 
partly  from  the  journal.] 

"Among  my  luggage  was  a  new  American 
rifle,  a  very  neat  breech-loader,  silver-mounted, 
etc.  This  attracted  the  eye  of  one  of  the  Sul- 
tan's officers,  who  was  greatly  astonished,  and 
must  have  reported  it  at  once  to  the  Imam, 

[  130] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

for  in  the  afternoon  I  had  a  respectful  mes- 
sage from  His  Highness  saying  that  he  would 
like  to  see  the  rifle.  I  sent  it  up,  but  as  he  could 
not  manage  it,  I  sent  it  again  (after  its  return), 
with  Cymon.  Cymon  explained  the  secret  of 
its  workings  to  one  of  the  Sultan's  servants 
who,  with  a  few  cartridges,  showed  success- 
fully its  operation.  Next  day  it  was  sent  for 
again.  Cymon  then  began  to  whisper  evil. 
'I  think  so  Sahib  suppose  you  give  this  rifle  to 
the  king.  He  be  very  much  pleased  and  make 
you  some  handsome  present.'  Struck  with  the 
force  of  this  reasoning,  I  sat  down  and  wrote 
a  note  requesting  His  Highness  to  accept  the 
rifle  as  a  token  of  my  distinguished  considera- 
tion, etc.,  etc.  I  had  hardly  written  the  note 
when  down  came  another  request  from  the 
Imam.  His  brother  had  come  and  would  I 
greatly  oblige  him  by  sending  the  rifle  once 
more.  This  confirmed  me  in  my  resolution,  and 
the  note  went  forward  with  the  rifle.  An  hour 
or  two  afterwards  I  had  a  most  polite  note 
of  thanks  and  request  that  I  would  call  in 
the  afternoon.  This  I  did  and  had  a  very 
pleasant  interview  with  the  Imam  and  his 
Grand  Vizier.  The  Vizier  spoke  in  Hindustani, 

[  '3'] 


MARRIED  I 

and  in  this  language,  through  him,  I  spoke 
with  the  Imam,  who  speaks  only  Arabic.  .  .  . 
1  \\as  hardly  prepared,  I  confess,  to  find  on 
my  return  to  the  British  Presidency,  —  where  1 
was  staying,  —  a  beautiful,  highest  caste,  pure- 
blooded  Arab  horse,  a  present  from  His  High- 
ness! It  would  do  your  heart  good  to  see  this 
animal.  He  is  only  three  and  a  half  years  old 
and  is  pronounced  by  the  Arabs  to  be  of  great 
value.  I  suppose  no  living  prince  or  ruler 
possesses  such  a  beautiful  stud  of  horses  as 
the  Imam;  and  the  value  of  this  gift  can  be 
better  appreciated  when  I  tell  you  that  it  was 
reared  from  his  own  stock  and  has  a  pedigree 
akin  to  some  of  the  English  nobility.  More 
than  all  this,  I  was  soon  known  as  'the  man 
whom  the  King  delighteth  to  honour.' ' 

The  journal  continues :  "The  Imam's  kind- 
ness did  not  stop  here.  He  had  determined  to 
send  to  Bombay  one  of  his  war  vessels,  and  by 
this  he  not  only  gave  me  a  free  passage, 
but  urged  me  to  send  my  horses  ...  by 
the  same  conveyance.  I  thought  it  too  much, 
however,  and  declined  the  offer.  In  fact,  as 
you  have  already  learned,  ...  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  come  on  by  the  Coringa,  and  only 

[  '3*] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

late  on  the  evening  of  the  eleventh  changed  my 
mind.  I  would  not  take  my  horses,  but  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  for  myself — so  here  I 
am.  As  I  did  not  like  to  ask  what  preparations 
had  been  made  for  me,  I  concluded  to  act  on 
Colonel  Disbrowe's  suggestion,  which  was: 
'Leave  nothing  to  chance.  Though  very  kind, 
the  Arabs  don't  know  how  to  provide  for  a 
European.'  Acting  upon  his  suggestion,  .  .  . 
what  does  the  Colonel  do  but  at  once  undertake 
my  fitting  out.  .  .  . 

"The  old  Colonel  .  .  .  has  the  funniest 
names  for  his  servants  you  can  imagine.  One, 
the  controller  of  his  household,  he  calls  .  .  . 
'Country  Roller,'  another  is  'Shitan,'  another 
'Gudha,'  another  'Jackey,'  and  Cymon  was 
'Mr.  Simmons.'  He  addresses  them  half  in 
Hindustani  and  half  English;  being  a  good 
scholar  and  speaking  the  former  perfectly,  he 
keeps  you  in  fits  of  laughter  from  morning  till 
night.  He  says:  'Country  Roller,  toom  aisa 
incorrigible  hai,  kya  karega?'  ...  I  find  that 
Disbrowe  was  wise  in  advising  me  as  he  did. 
Although  I  am  treated  with  the  utmost  kind- 
ness, and  although  I  have  become  sincerely 
attached  to  the  Arabs,  and  although  I  begin 

[  133  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

to  think  that  they  are  a  much  abused  race, 
nothing  \\ill  make  them  clean  and  nice.  . 
Yet,  with  all  this,  there  is  something  exceed- 
ingly atu.umr  about  them.  Their  hearts  are 
kirui,  thru  faces  show  it,  and  even  those  on 
board  who  have  been  born  and  bred  in  the 
desert,  and  who  have  done  their  share  of  loot- 
ing, say:  'If  you  break  bread  with  us,  we  are 
your  friends  forever.  If  the  1. polish  and  Amer- 
icans would  come  to  our  country  more,  we 
would  be  better  friends.'  I  have  lived  some 
rime  in  the  East,  and  know  the  value  of  East- 
ern stories,  but  when  an  Arab  speaks,  there 
is  a  manliness  and  straightforwardness  in  his 
speech  that  carries  conviction  in  spite  of  pre- 
judices. They  are  men,  and  so  far  as  real  ma- 
terial goes,  as  far  removed  from  the  Hindu  as 
light  from  darkness.  I  speak,  of  course,  of 
Hindus  as  a  class. 

"  Now,  for  a  word  about  my  commissariat.  I 
am  glad  you  won't  know  anything  about  it 
until  it  is  all  over.  In  the  morning  I  have  my 
tea,  but  can  only  depend  .upon  the  biscuits  that 
the  Colonel  put  in  for  a  five  days'  voyage, 
and  which  my  Arab  friends  so  delight  in  that 
they  will  soon  go.  The  water  is  simply  beastly, 

[  134] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

and  as  the  tea  is  made  of  this  and  has  to  be 
drunk  without  milk,  it  might  be  improved ! 
My  breakfast,  which  I  take  at  ten  A.  M.  (in 
order  to  dine  at  five,  so  that  I  may  give  up 
tiffin  and  make  my  beer  hold  out),  consists  of 
a  cup  of  miserable  coffee,  a  glass  of  beer,  some 
native  bread,  and  a  bit  of  cold  corned  meat, 
or  fried.  This  morning  I  had  a  luxury  in  the 
shape  of  a  bit  of  liver,  a  goat  having  been  killed 
yesterday,  and  Cymon  having  got  the  liver! 
For  dinner  I  get  a  glass  of  beer  and  same  as  for 
breakfast.  .  .  .  How  jolly  to  be  clean  once 
more!  .  .  . 

"Next  to  me  at  night  sleeps  a  madman. 
He  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  my  room  and 
visits  it  many  times  every  day,  overhauls  my 
things  and  seems  to  be  happy.  I  hope  he  is. 
At  night  he  sings  himself  to  sleep  with  that 
song  that  the  coolie  women  sing  when  grind- 
ing; and  when  I  wake,  as  I  do  every  morning 
at  half  past  four  or  five,  ...  I  still  hear  the 
same  song. 

O 

"December  19.  ...  I  begin  to  doubt  now 
whether  we  shall  be  in  before  Christmas!  .  .  . 
We  have  had  a  succession  of  calms  ever  since 
leaving  Muscat,  and  although  the  distance  be- 

[ 


MARRIED  LIFE 

twcen  Muscat  and  Bombay  is  only  eight  hun- 
il  1 rd  miles,  and  though  it  was  a  week  this  morn- 
ing since  making  the  former  place,  we  have 
not  yet  made  half  our  distance.  Yesterday's 
dulness  was  relieved  by  a  little  shark-fishing 
and  a  little  honita  ilitro.  .  .  .  About  two  P.  M. 
a  steamer's  smoke  was  seen  astern,  and  about 
six  the  steamer  overhauled  us.  It  was  the 
Coringa.  .  .  .  Should  we  have  a  fair  wind,  the 
Coringa  will  even  now  hardly  beat  us,  but  .  .  . 
as  I  write,  the  flapping  sails  warn  me  that  the 
possibilities  only  are  ours,  not  the  probabilities. 
Well,  another  week  of  short  commons,  .  .  . 
madmen  and  'critters'  will  make  me  appre- 
ciate better  that  home  which  you  adorn,  the 
place  where  I  always  find  my  heart  when  it 
wanders,  though  but  for  a  moment. 

"  I  said  I  would  write  a  word  regarding  our 
passengers,  but  what 's  the  use  ?  1  am  sure 
you  don't  appreciate  my  filling  my  letter  with 
such  dry  details.  I  will,  however,  say  that  we 
have  H.  H.  the  Imam's  Consul  General  Mo- 
hammed Bowker  Khan,  with  his  nephew,  the 
madman,  and  three  or  four  servants.  We  have 
several  Arab  horse-dealers,  and  very  gentle- 
manly, dignified  fellows  they  are  too;  we  have, 

t  -36] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

further,  a  Sindian  Mur  and  Said,  and  a 
family  of  nine  Jews,  besides  the  numerous 
odds  and  ends  from  the  steamer,  who  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  passage  from  His  High- 
ness. .  .  .  One  of  our  horse-dealers,  an  old 
fellow  named  Moosa,  is  a  Wahabee,  the  largest 
and  most  warlike  of  the  Arab  tribes.  They 
hold  all  the  centre  of  Arabia  and  are  reformers. 
They  believe  in  Mohammed  only  as  a  prophet, 
they  don't  believe  (such  is  my  impression)  in 
the  divinity  even  of  Mohammed,  and  follow 
Aabar  the  chief  officer  of  Mohammed,  and 
not  AH  the  son  of  Fatima  and  the  prophet. 
I  forgot  to  say  that  we  carry  a  chaplain,  .  .  . 
so  to  speak.  We  have  a  Mohammedan  priest 
on  board,  who,  five  times  a  day,  shouts  from 
the  poop:  'Akbar!  Oh,  Allah  akbar,  Oh, 
Allah!  1'illakloolalulla!  Oh,  ilia  Mohammed 
zoor  Ziloola!  A-a-akbar!'  then  all  hands  go  to 
prayers.  .  .  .  Their  prayers  are  not,  however, 
confined  to  certain  periods.  One  fellow  is  even 
now  at  work  near  me. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is  —  I  should  like  amaz- 
ingly to  sit  down  with  you  and  have  something 
to  eat.  .  .  .  Even  old  Mohammed  Bowker 
says :  *  Ton  my  word,  I  feel  so  sorry  for  you ; 

[  137] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

you   don't  have   anything   for   comfort  you. 

n  my  word.'  Of  course  I  laugh  and  s.< 
is  all  right,  but  one  can't  perhaps  be  blamed  for 
gently  sighing  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egyj1' 

"My  books  are  nearly  finished.  I  'm  on  the 
last  two  hundred  and  fifty  pages  of  the  fourth 
volume  of  Macaulay.  1  have  read  all  of  the 
Marquis  of  Bragtlonnt  and  part  of  Bulfinch's 
Gods  and  H trots.  .  .  . 

"December  22.  ...  It  is  time  that  I  brought 
my  long  letter  to  a  close,  and  I  shall  be  su- 
premely happy  and  satisfied  if  I  afford  you  as 
much  pleasure  in  the  perusal  as  1  have  experi- 
enced in  the  writing.  .  .  .  One  of  these  days 
when  I  am  under  the  sod,  if  so  it  should  please 
God  to  arrange  our  little  span  of  life  here,  and 
you  are  waiting  to  be  taken,  it  may  serve  to 
beguile  a  few  weary  hours  to  let  your  thoughts 
wander  back  to  the  days  of  old  when  you  and 
Will  were  young,  and  life  stretched  out  in  a 
then  seemingly  interminable  path,  every  step 
of  which  was  covered  with  flowers.  .  .  .  One 
of  the  things  which  I  prize  as  above  all  price 
is  to  finish  life's  journey  with  you.  .  .  .  But 
we  cannot,  we  must  not,  shirk  the  awful  re- 
sponsibilities of  life  simply  because  we  feel 

[  -38] 


THE  PERSIAN  GULF 

unwilling  to  work  alone.  No,  the  dear  little 
souls  which  God  has  committed  to  our  charge 
demand  a  different  course,  the  numberless 
broken  hearts  that  we  can  soothe  .  .  .  tears 
we  can  dry  ...  all  demand  that  our  sorrows 
should  never  for  an  instant  cause  us  to  lose 
sight  of  'whose  we  are  and  what  we  are." 


[  139  1 


VI 

Home  Life  in  India 

ON  Mr.  Stearns's  arrival  in  Bombay,  he 
found,  besides  his  customary  family,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Alpheus  H.  Hardy  of  Boston,  Mrs. 
Stearns's  cousin,  Miss  Julia  Kittredge,  who 
was  to  spend  three  years  with  them,  and  a 
Mr.  Reynolds.  The  large  household  always 
met  together  many  times  a  day.  To  quote 
Mrs.  Stearns:  "We  all  go  out  for  a  little  while 
every  morning  to  plan  and  direct  the  gardener. 
.  .  .  We  play  billiards  after  dinner,  and  end 
the  evening  with  music."  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardy 
soon  left  for  their  own  home  near  by. 

The  baby,  now  named  Harold,  was  called 
by  his  father  a  "really  splendid  fellow,  always 
happy  and  always  trying  to  make  you  laugh. 
Em  thinks  [he]  not  only  looks  like  me,  but  will 
have  many  of  my  failings.  He  is  frank,  open 
and  very  demonstrative  —  always  smashing 
things.  ...  I  think  he  will  be  a  very  jolly  fel- 
low, one  that  will  be  a  great  favourite  with  his 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

school-mates,  but  he  will  have  to  be  watched. 
.  .  .  Willie  will  have  Frazar's  conscience, 
Harry,  I  fear,  mine  —  india-rubber.  .  .  . 

"Willie  grows  like  a  weed.  He  is  a  good, 
kind,  affectionate,  strange,  shy  character, 
as  handsome  as  Apollo,  and  as  good  as  he  is 
handsome,  if  I  do  say  it.  Everyone  says  'What 
a  picture ! '  .  .  .  One  seldom  meets  with  such 
a  fine,  loving  character  as  his,  or  so  perfect  a 
person.  .  .  .  There  is  very  little  that  is  ori- 
ginal about  him  save  his  wonderful  reserve. 
With  such  a  garrulous  papa  I  can't  understand 
how  I  have  become  possessed  of  such  a  quiet 
boy  —  and  yet  the  fire  is  there. 

"When  Cymon  is  lazy,  and  I  am  away,  and 
Emmie  is  busy,  and  there  is  no  one  with  whom 
to  play  .  .  .  Willie  empties  Emmie's  bottle 
of  cologne  into  the  wash-basin,  puts  the  soap 
to  soaking,  upsets  my  bottle  of  gum,  and  rubs 
it  all  over  the  top  of  my  writing-table.  As  I 
wrote  you  before,  I  believe,  like  his  papa,  he 's 
a  stunner  for  repenting.  .  .  . 

"I  wonder  sometimes  that  he  keeps  at  all 

good.  A  child  can  only  go  out  for  a  short  time 

about  sunrise  and  again  just  before  sunset. 

They  meet  other  children  occasionally  only, 

[  141  ] 


MARRIFD  LIFE 

in  the  street.  They  rarely,  or  never,  inter- 
change visits,  and  tin  ir  time  is  almost  always 
occupied  by  stupid  nati\rs,  who  are  only  too 
glad  if  they  can  offer  inducement,  without 
reference  to  its  moral  bearings,  to  keep  the 
child  still  for  a  few  moments.  1  t  xpect  Willie 
uill  make  quite  a  good  horseman,  by  and  by. 
He  has  a  ride  both  morning  and  night,  and  is 
only  contented  when  the  poor  pony  is  'streak- 
ing it'  at  full  gallop.  You  must  not  suppose 
that  he  rides  alone.  His  ghora-wallah  takes  the 
reins,  and  Cymon  runs  by  his  side,  holding  on. 

"He  talks  only  Hindustani.  .  .  .  He  is  be- 
ginning to  learn  his  letters,  but  having  in  six 
months  learned  only  A  and  O  and  forgotten 
/,  I  think  the  chances  are  that  he  will  learn  to 
read  somewhere  in  the  twentieth  century." 

Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  to  Eliza  Stearns,  on  the 
twelfth  of  March,  1864:  "Our  family  is  unusu- 
ally large,  for  besides  my  two  cousins  [two  chil- 
dren and  thirty  servants],  a  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Kirby  are  staying  with  us  for  seven  weeks. 
They  came  out  with  us  last  year.  He  is  the 
Deputy  Adjutant-General  of  the  Army.  Mrs. 
Kirby  is  ill.  .  .  .  She  plays  better  than  any 
lady  I  have  ever  heard." 

[ 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  "delightful,  warm-hearted, 
and  known  everywhere  as  the  'Queen  of 
Sheba."  In  a  letter  recently  received  from 
Mrs.  Kirby,  she  calls  Mrs.  Stearns,  "one  of 
the  most  highly  valued  friends  I  have  ever 
had  —  the  most  splendid  character  I  have  ever 
met  with." 

At  this  time  they  began  to  speak  of  wishing 
to  leave  India  on  account  of  the  health  of  Mrs. 
Stearns  and  the  children.  Everything  was 
progressing  so  well  that  Mr.  Stearns  could 
entrust  the  management  to  other  hands  and 
himself  afford  to  go  away  for  good,  and  come 
home  to  less  care  and  more  privacy.  He  once 
exclaimed,  "I  don't  know  what  it  is  to  live 
alone  with  my  wife  and  family.  ...  If  I 
leave,  it  is  my  present  intention  to  spend  a 
year  in  Egypt,  and  upon  the  continent,  though 
my  movements  will  be  shaped  to  some  extent 
by  my  friend  Faithfull,  who  has  been  staying 
in  India  for  the  last  year  solely  on  my  account. 
.  .  .  Cymon  says  '  I  not  get  married.  I  want 
to  go  back  America  with  you,  bus.'  I  suppose 
we  shall  take  him  with  us  whenever  we  make 
up  our  minds  to  return." 

Mrs.  Stearns  goes  on:  "It  is  my  nature  to 

[143] 


MARRIH    I 

find  my  happiness  rather  in  tin-  present  than 
in  my  antic  ip.itions  for  the  future.  Still,  talking 
of  leaving  India  makes  me  feel  a  little  unsettled, 
and  I  find  myself  laying  aside  curiosities  and 
articles  of  Indian  manufacture  which  I  fancy 
may  be  useful  and  pretty  in  our  American 
home." 

In  May,  1864,  they  went  as  usual  to  Math- 
eran;  but  as  Mrs.  Stearns  invited  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Kirby  to  stay  with  them  there  for  two 
months  longer,  the  family  was  hardly  smaller 
than  in  Bombay.  Of  the  excitement  of  this 
season  Mr.  Stearns  said:  "Last  night,  when 
coming  down  the  hill,  George  and  Julia  ran 
upon  a  large  bear.  He  was  only  three  or  four 
rods  from  them,  made  no  trouble,  and  trotted 
leisurely  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  We  used 
to  have  a  great  many  bears  and  cheetas  at  the 
Hills,  but  of  late  years  have  had  but  few.  The 
monkeys  are,  however,  as  thick  as  hops.  .  .  . 
Have  just  returned  from  a  shooting  excursion. 
...  By  the  by,  did  I  tell  you  that  we  have 
killed  three  panthers  at  Matheran  this  season  ? " 

They  returned  to  Bombay  when  the  rains 
set  in. 

"The  change  from  the  quiet  and  rest  of 
[  144  ] 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

Matheran  to  the  care  and  excitement  of  Bom- 
bay was  so  great  that  for  a  few  days  it  seemed 
to  me  more  than  I  could  possibly  bear/'  wrote 
Mrs.  Stearns. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  July,  Arthur  French 
Stearns  was  born.  For  several  months  he  was 
known  as  "  Pete."  Mrs.  Stearns  had  a  new 
ayah  for  the  baby,  "  a  perfect  treasure  of  a  wo- 
man," who  took  as  good  care  of  her  as  of  the 
baby.  Each  of  the  other  children  had  its  own 
ayah,  and  Cymon  had  an  oversight  of  them 
all,  for  "  no  one  was  so  ready  to  do  anything  and 
everything  for  them,  no  one  was  so  faithful." 

In  the  autumn,  Mr.  Stearns  wrote  an  exuber- 
ant letter:  "On  the  ninth  of  November  [1864] 
I  completed  my  thirtieth  year  of  life  and 
seventh  in  India.  Where  can  you  find  a  man 
so  well  as  I  have  been  and  am  ?  Hardly  a  sick 
hour  since  I  came  to  this  country,  and  such 
wonderful  blessings  withal;  then  Emmie, — 
in  the  words  of  her  yesterday's  letter,  '  I  am 
very,  very  well,  never  better  in  my  life' ;  and  the 
children,  in  the  words  of  our  friends,  — 
'Stearns,  what  wonderfully  healthy  and  strong 
children  yours  are !  Not  at  all  like  Indian  chil- 
dren. One  can't  imagine  that  they  need  a 

CHS] 


MARRIFD  I  n  i 

change  of  climate.'  \VillieisyelIingand 

screaming  with  good  health.  God  bless  the 
boy!  .  .  .  Kverything  Harry  does,  dear  little 
fellow,  is  comical;  he  eats,  sleeps  talks,  laughs 
and  runs  comically.  Pete  is  a  stunm  r,  Init  not 
so  amiable  as  his  brothers. 

"We  have  been  so  wonderfully  blessed  as  a 
family,  that  I  sometimes  fear  that  we  shall 
one  day  have  a  tornado  of  reverses.  God  grant 
that  we  may  be  prepared  for  sorrows  as  well 
as  joys." 

The  progress  of  her  children  was  now  Mrs. 
Stearns's  chief  interest.  So  great  was  her  de- 
sire for  their  proper  bringing-up,  that  she  used 
to  pray  that  if  her  wealth  was  in  any  way  a 
barrier  to  their  highest  development,  it  might 
be  taken  from  her. 

She  breakfasted  in  her  room  and  devoted  the 
early  part  of  each  day  to  them,  giving  so  much 
time  that  it  would  seem  as  if  she  had  none  for 
herself.  Nothing  could  be  less  true.  On  this 
point  she  said :  "  With  all  my  care,  I  am  try- 
ing to  improve  an  opportunity  which  offers  of 
studying  music.  We  have  an  Italian  opera 
here,  and  ...  we  have  seized  hold  of  Pro- 
fessor Usigliose,  the  leader  of  the  orchestra, 

[ 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

and  are  learning  all  we  can  of  him.  He  comes 
to  us  on  Mondays  and  Thursdays  for  two  hours, 
which  Mrs.  Faithfull,  my  cousin  and  I  divide 
among  ourselves.  Mrs.  Faithfull  is  taking 
lessons  in  Italian,  my  cousin  on  the  piano,  and 
I  in  singing.  .  .  .  We  sing  the  Creation  every 
evening,  my  cousin  taking  the  piano,  Mr. 
Faithfull  the  concertina,  and  the  rest  of  us  the 
parts.  We  have  our  old  leader,  Professor  Sin- 
clair, two  or  three  times  a  week  to  assist  us, 
and  mean  now  to  invite  a  number  of  friends 
to  join  us  for  practice.  Then  there  are  so  many 
people  to  be  invited  to  dinner,  so  many  visits 
to  be  paid,  so  many  invitations  to  be  accepted, 
that  with  the  care  of  so  large  a  family  and  the 
preparations  for  leaving  India,  my  time  will  be 
fully  occupied." 

.  As  to  their  plans  for  coming  home.  Writing 
to  his  sister  Eliza  on  the  twenty-first  of  De- 
cember, Mr.  Stearns  said  :  "The  last  idea  is  to 
leave  here  by  the  last  steamer  in  March  and 
go  to  Paris ;  stop  there  a  month  and  then  come 
home,  leaving  the  three  boys  behind ;  take  a  fly 
over  to  England  and  spend  the  winter  in  the 
south  of  Europe.  .  .  .  Will  you  take  the  boys 
for  a  year  while  we  go  prancing  about  Europe  ? 

[  147] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

The  expense  of  living  is  smm  thing  enormous. 
And  not  only  here  but  all  over  the  count r  v  has 
there  been,  consequent  upon  the  American 
war,  this  tremendous  rise.  .  .  .  Yesterday  I 
got  up  at  daylight,  got  ready  and  started  for 
office  without  breakfast,  having  arranged  to 
eat  it  in  the  Fort,  and  was  at  work  at  my  desk 
hard  until  ten  p.  M.  ...  As  a  consequence 
I  did  not  get  dinner  until  eleven  P.  M  ."  This 
overwork  was  not  unusual.  He  had,  in  1864, 
a  summer  vacation  of  two  and  one-half  days. 

"  January  22,  1865. 

"We  are  beginning  to  ship  cotton  overland, 
by  rail  from  Suez  to  Alexandria.  ...  I  must 
see  the  Pasha  and  arrange  for  transit  duties 
through  Egypt;  if  my  plans  are  successful, 
I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not  revolutionize 
the  trade  of  the  world!  Rather  a  big  thing 
to  take  hold  of,  but  like  all  big  things,  much 
easier  and  simpler  than  the  little  ones.  .  .  . 
Success  means  nothing  in  itself  beyond  the 
achievement  of  our  designs,  and  they  may  be 
evil  or  good.  .  .  .  Oh,  that  we  might  all  be 
humble  in  prosperity,  patient  in  adversity  and 
always  fear  the  Lord ! " 

[ 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

"  February  28,  1865. 

"We  have  just  completed  our  arrangement 
with  the  town  of  Bombay  to  construct  horse- 
railways.  .  .  .  On  Monday,  the  seventh,  tele- 
graphic communication  with  England  is  com- 
plete. There  is  a  panic  in  Liverpool.  Cotton 
is  down  there  and  here.  .  .  . 

"We  are  rapidly  coming  into  possession  of 
one  of  the  finest  steam  fleets  in  the  world.  It 
is  the  monument  which  I  leave  in  Bombay. 
[He  mentions  thirteen  steamers  of  their  fleet, 
that  of  the  Bombay  and  Bengal  Steam  Navi- 
gation Company.]  I  told  Lady  Frere  the 
other  night  (the  Governor's  lady  by  whom  I 
sat  at  dinner  at  Government  House)  .  .  .  that 
the  next  time  she  came  to  Bombay  I  would  give 
her  one  of  my  steamers,  put  her  into  my  horse- 
car,  and  take  her  straight  to  my  hotel.  She 
thought  it  a  wonderfully  good  joke." 

Mr.  Stearns's  projects  were  "very  interest- 
ing "  to  Sir  Bartle  and  Lady  Frere,  who  were 
the  warm  friends  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns. 
They  frequently  lunched  at  Government 
House,  and  Mrs.  Stearns  sometimes  sang  there. 

Her  life  in   India  has  been  characterized 


MARRIED  LIFE 

in  various  ways  by  persons  who  knew  her  at 
this  time.  "Mrs.  Stearns  bore  a  charmed  life 
in  India."  "It  was  like  visiting  royalty." 
"Mrs.  Stearns  lived  like  a  pritm  ss."  She  was 
described  as  "distinctly  the  grande  damt" 
with  "a  place  among  the  leaders  of  society," 
"the  Bhurra  Mtm  Sahib  (great  lady), 
surrounded  by  a  retinue  of  servants,  never  al- 
lowed to  make  the  least  exertion  for  herself." 
She  was  admired  —  greatly  admired  —  not  for 
the  advantages  she  had  had,  however,  but  for 
what  she  was.  She  remained  serenely  uncon- 
scious of  the  impression  she  was  making,  and 
did  not  take  the  judgments  of  others  as  just 
estimates  of  herself. 

"To  her  house  came  the  high  and  the  low. 
Her  receptions  brought  the  Governor  and 
staff.  Her  invitations  included  the  missionary 
and  native  Christian,  and  in  her  were  com- 
bined the  accomplished  hostess  and  helpful 
friend." 

Here  is  an  account  of  one  of  their  entertain- 
ments, written  by  Mrs.  Stearns  herself. 

"We  are  making  preparations  for  a  grand 
concert  which  we  are  to  give  on  the  ninth  of 
March.  There  are  one  hundred  and  fifty 

[  15°] 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

invites.  .  .  .  We  are  to  have  the  assistance  of 
a  few  instruments  from  the  opera  company, 
four  violins,  one  viola  and  violoncello,  and 
double  bass,  besides  the  piano.  .  .  .  With  all 
this,  I  have  to  hurry  on  the  preparations  for 
our  journey.  .  .  .  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B  —  —  are 
leaving  for  home.  I  must  find  time  to  do  some- 
thing for  them."  And  after  the  concert,  on  the 
thirteenth  of  March,  1865,  she  continued  :  "We 
are  just  recovering  from  the  effects  of  our 
concert  .  .  .  and  can  only  say,  now  that  it  is 
all  over,  that  the  success  of  the  party  was  be- 
yond anything  that  we  had  anticipated.  We 
had  from  one  hundred  and  thirty  to  one 
hundred  and  forty  present.  .  .  .  We  had  the 
screens,  ...  on  each  side  of  the  drawing- 
room,  taken  down  so  as  to  make  one  immensely 
long  room.  .  .  .  Thanks  to  Mrs.  Faithfull's 
taste,  the  decorations  were  beautiful.  In  both 
verandas  American  and  English  flags  were 
hung,  while  branches  of  palm  and  pots  of  plants 
were  so  arranged  as  to  make  the  place  appear 
like  a  beautiful  conservatory.  In  the  long 
veranda  at  the  back  of  the  drawing-room, 
which  was  arranged  with  couches  for  the  audi- 
ence, the  palm  branches  were  arranged  in  the 

[  ISM 


M  \KK1I  I>     lit  I 

form  of  arches.  .  .  .  Using  the  three  rooms  as 
a  drawing-room,  we  were  obliged  to  have  an 
immense  tent  for  our  supper.  I  Ins  was  put 
at  the  back  of  the  bungalow  .  1  he  sides 
of  the  unr  \\(  re  hung  with  flags.  Flags  were 
hung  from  the  top  of  the  veranda  to  the 
ground,  while  the  little  terraces  .  .  .  were 
filled  with  beautiful  plants  and  branches  of 
palm.  .  .  .  In  one  [corner]  a  lovely  little 
grotto.  ...  At  one  end  of  the  tent  we  had  a 
long  table  tastefully  laid  for  the  supper,  while 
all  over  the  tent  were  small  tables  with  bou- 
quets of  flowers,  with  couches  and  chairs  about 
them.  The  steps  leading  to  the  tent  were  cov- 
ered with  white  cloth.  I  think  I  never  saw 
anything  more  beautiful  .  .  .  than  the  tent. 
It  was  perfectly  oriental,  and  so  fascinating 
that,  after  the  guests  had  left,we  could  not  bear 
to  leave  anything  so  lovely  .  .  .  and  so  sat 
enjoying  it  for  a  long  time.  .  .  .  We  had 
bright  red  cloth  laid  from  the  drawing-room 
door  to  the  carriages.  This  was  especially  in 
honour  of  Lady  Frere's  presence.  The  Governor 
was  not  able  to  come,  but  Lady  Frere  came, 
bringing  with  her  her  daughters  and  Lord  John 
Hay,  who  was  a  guest  at  Government  House. 

[ 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

We  had  the  seats  directly  in  front  of  the  plat- 
form, in  the  middle  room,  arranged  for  the 
Government  House  party,  and  they  were  all 
highly  delighted  with  the  music  as  well  as  the 
appearance  of  the  house. 

"We  hear  nothing  but  praise  of  our  concert, 
and  the  general  opinion  seems  to  be  that  it  was 
the  best  ever  given  in  Bombay.  .  .  .  I  hope  to- 
morrow to  begin  packing  up  our  things,  prepar- 
atory to  breaking  up  housekeeping.  I  am  ex- 
pecting Mrs.  Harding  to  make  me  a  visit." 

The  next  letter  is  dated  from  Cairo,  on  the 
twenty-eighth  of  April,  1865,  in  which  Mr. 
Stearns  wrote  of  his  changed  plans.  "  I  have 
had  an  interview  with  the  Egyptian  authorities 
and  feel  confident  that  I  shall  gain  all  I  ask 
for.  ...  In  order  to  complete  everything,  I 
must  return  to  Bombay  again.  I  can't  come  to 
America  yet,  and  I  can't  go  to  the  Holy  Land 
at  present.  .  .  .  Poor  Lincoln  !  I  feel  as  though 
we  had  lost  one  of  the  family."  (President 
Lincoln  had  been  assassinated  on  the  four- 
teenth of  April.) 

The  result  of  the  interview  to  which  Mr. 
Stearns  referred,  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
of  all  his  achievements.  It  was  always  his 

[153] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

peculiar  gift  to  win  the  confidence  of  nat 
rulers,  as  well  as  Europeans.   No  foreigner  in 
Bombay  had  been  so  far  trusted  before  by 
natives.    Ir  u  is  true  of  his  interviews  with  the 
Imam  of  Muscat,  it  II  truer  of  his  nego- 

tiations with  the  Pasha  of  Egypt.    A  clear  idea 
of  this  undertaking  is  clismlu-d  in  a  few  con- 
cise words  by  Professor  William  S.  Tyler,  in  a 
Sketch  of  Mr.  Stearns,  given  to  the  studt 
of  Amherst  College  shortly  after  his  death. 

"Cotton  could  be  transported  from  India  by 
steamer  through  the  Red  Sea  to  Suez,  then  by 
rail  to  Alexandria,  in  one  quarter  of  the  time 
which  was  consumed  by  the  voyage  around  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  arrived  in  much  I 
ter  condition  from  being  less  damaged  at  sea. 
.  .  .  But  the  Pasha,  who  owns  the  railroad, 
as  he  does  everything  in  Egypt,  charged  so 
high  a  price  for  transportation  across  his  do- 
minions, that  only  now  and  then  a  choice  lot 
was  sent  this  way  and  the  great  bulk  still  went 
round  by  the  old  route.  Merchants  and  diplo- 
matists had  tried  repeatedly  to  obtain  more 
favourable  terms,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  and  the 
effort  was  given  up  in  despair.  Mr.  Stearns 
at  length  decided  to  try  his  hand  at  negotiation. 
[  154] 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

He  went  to  Cairo,  approached  the  Pasha  with 
much  patience  and  prudence,  but  great  tact." 

He  found  in  the  Minister  of  Public  Works  a 
man  of  "  intelligence  and  energy  who  had  been 
well  educated  in  England  .  .  .  unexpectedly 
ready  for  the  development  of  his  native  land." 
His  master,  Ismail  Pasha,  also  received  Mr. 
Stearns  with  courtesy.  "He  won  the  Viceroy 
chiefly  by  his  manifest  fairness  and  upright- 
ness, voluntarily  proposed  to  raise  the  tariff  on 
certain  articles  of  more  value  and  less  bulk, 
while  he  lowered  it  on  cotton.  By  showing 
that  he  looked  out  for  the  Pasha's  interest  as 
well  as  his  own,  he  so  established  himself  at 
length  in  the  Khedive's  favour  that  he  was 
given  carte  blanche  and  told  to  arrange  the 
tariff  to  suit  himself." 

As  soon  as  possible,  they  all  hurried  on  to 
Paris.  Here  Mr.  Stearns  received  the  news  of 
the  universal  panic  in  Bombay.  He  wrote: 
"We  have  long  foreseen  this  storm,  and  have 
endeavoured  to  take  in  every,  possible  rag  of 
canvas  and  prepare  for  it.  But  .  .  .  panics 
trip  up  the  best  men  as  well  as  the  worst,  and 
no  human  wisdom  can  guard  every  weak  ap- 
proach. Life  has  been  a  romance  thus  far. 


M  \  K  K  I  M  >    I    III 

1  know  the  sku  s  have  been  too  bright  to  make 
a  thorough  man  of  me.  .  .  .  I  ln-1  level  can  ac- 
knowledge the  Giver  of  these  gifts  as  well  as 
those  others  I  have  been  so  long  accustomed  • 

Sorrow  came;  it  came  quickly,  and  to  Mrs. 
Stearns  with  stunning  force  —  but  not  then  in 
just  the  manner  that  they  had  feared.  Mr. 
Stearns's  own  record  follow 

"LONDON,  June  16,  1865. 

"Our  plans  are  changed  on  account  of  the 
very  sudden  death  of  dear  Mrs.  Faithfull. 
You  know  how  much  our  movements  were 
based  upon  theirs  and  how  unhinged  we  con- 
sequently are. 

"Our  dear  friends  left  us  last  Thursday  in 
Paris,  to  come  over  to  England  to  meet  their 
little  daughter.  When  within  a  little  more 
than  an  hour  from  home,  the  train  ran  off  a 
viaduct,  toppled  into  a  small  stream  —  ten  per- 
sons were  killed,  and  thirty  or  forty  wounded ; 
among  the  former  poor,  dear  Mrs.  Faithfull. 
Her  death  was  instantaneous.  .  .  .  Poor  Fred 
escaped  as  by  a  miracle.  .  .  .  Oh,  how  deso- 
late and  crushed  he  is!  ...  I  have  rarely 
seen  a  more  terrible  picture  of  despair.  .  .  . 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

On  Saturday  I  got  a  telegram  from  him,  and 
at  once  left  Paris  by  the  evening  train,  and 
travelled  all  night,  arriving  at  Staplehurst,  the 
scene  of  the  disaster,  at  five  o'clock  Sunday 
morning.  I  was  with  him  all  day.  We  removed 
the  body  on  Monday,  and  on  Wednesday  we 
buried  her.  .  .  .  Oh,  what  a  checkered  life! 
Its  ups  and  downs  are  so  amazing  that  we 
should  stand  aghast  with  astonishment  did 
not  frequency  so  blunt  their  strangeness.  I  feel 
more  and  more  life's  uncertainty  and  that  in 
its  midst  we  are  in  death.  Here  was  Faithfull, 
after  a  ten  years'  struggle  in  which  he  had  risen 
to  eminence  and  wealth,  returning  to  enjoy  the 
fruits  of  his  labour  with  the  little  one  from 
whom  they  had  parted  full  six  years  before, 
with  everything  bright,  fresh  and  happy  before 
them,  and  in  an  instant  called  into  the  deepest 
misery  and  woe.  How  strange  are  God's  deal- 
ings, and  His  ways  are  past  finding  out  — 
but  His  mercies  are  infinite  and  His  love  sure. 
Would  that  we  could  trust  Him  more ! " 

Mrs.  Faithfull's  death  was  an  almost  un- 
bearable grief  to  Mrs.  Stearns.  It  had  a  deep 
religious  significance  in  her  life,  showing 

[  157] 


MARRIKD  LIFE 

her  the  disappointments  of  earthly  depend- 
ence. 

She  wrote : "  It  seems  to  me  that  I  could  have 
lived  so  much  better  had  she  lived.  Her  influ- 
ence was  always  so  elevating,  whether  it  were 
in  matters  of  taste,  or  my  duty  to  my  husband 
and  children,  or  to  society  or  to  my  God,  she 
always  led  me  up  higher,  and  I  felt  her  influ- 
ence ennobling.  Oh,  how  inferior  all  the  peo- 
ple I  meet  now  seem  to  her !  Instead  of  mourn- 
ing too  much,  I  know  I  ought  rather  to  thank 
God  that  I  was  permitted  so  long  to  enjoy  her 
friendship.  But  I  long,  long  for  her  love,  and 
there  is  a  charm  taken  away  from  life  which 
can  never  exist  again.  —  Was  it  not  her  friend- 
ship in  a  great  degree  which  made  me  love 
Indian  life  so  much  ?  .  .  .  That  she  loved  me 
as  she  did  makes  me  proud.  .  .  .  There  was 
no  cant  in  her  religious  life.  It  was  the  over- 
flowing of  a  heart  bursting  with  love  to  God 
and  man.  Oh,  what  would  I  not  give  to  pos- 
sess such  an  influence  for  good  upon  others ! " 

There  was  in  Mrs.  Stearns's  heart  a  double 
sorrow,  for  Mrs.  Faithfull's  death  was  closely 
followed  by  Mr.  Stearns's  return  to  India  on 
the  eighteenth  of  August,  1865.  It  is  not  hard 


HOME  LIFE  IN  INDIA 

to  understand  that  separation  seemed  to  them 
a  "great  calamity."  He  led,  during  his  absence 
from  her,  two  lives:  the  exterior,  in  his  busi- 
ness, which  gave  him  constant  anxiety,  and 
the  interior,  in  his  love  for  her,  serene,  steady. 
But  this  describes  her  life,  too  —  for  her  love 
was  no  less  deep  than  his,  and  his  anxieties 
were  hers  as  well. 


[159] 


VII 

Paris 

SHE  was  comfortably  settled  with  her  cousin 
Miss  Kittredge,  her  three  children  and  two 
Indian  servants,  in  an  apartment,  the  entre- 
sol, at  220,  rue  de  Rivoli,  opposite  the  palace 
of  the  Tuileries,  not  then  demolished.  From 
their  windows  they  could  look  into  the  beau- 
tiful gardens  and  watch  Napoleon  III  and  the 
graceful  Eugenie  drive  by.  Some  of  us  still 
associate  Mrs.  Stearns,  whose  "commanding 
presence,"  "elegance,"  and  "graceful  walk" 
are  mentioned  in  all  kinds  of  letters  from  all 
kinds  of  people,  with  that  much-loved  Empress 
of  the  French. 

Hardly  had  Mr.  Stearns  left,  when  Presi- 
dent Stearns  reached  Paris  to  spend  the  win- 
ter, through  February,  with  her.  On  his  arrival 
in  India,  Mr.  Stearns  found  Bombay  in  a  ter- 
rible state,  as  a  consequence  of  the  cessation 
of  hostilities  in  the  United  States.  "Over  half 
its  prominent  people  are  ruined  or  cleaned  out," 

[  160] 


PARIS 

he  wrote.  "Never  in  the  history  of  financial 
ruin  did  so  severe  a  tempest  occur  as  that  which 
swept  over  Bombay  in  April,  May,  June,  July 
and  August  last.  But  [September  27]  the 
Rubicon  is  passed  triumphantly!  I  can  now 
say  that  there  is  no  danger  of  our  having  to 
give  up.  ...  I  find  there  is  sunshine  as  well 
as  storm  in  this  world,  if  you  keep  up  your 
pluck.  .  .  .  There  is  too  much  hope  in  my 
composition,  too  great  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous, 
and  too  much  buoyancy,  ever  to  allow  me  to 
become  a  blue.  .  .  .  We  have  put  through  the 
Overland  Freight  business.  .  .  .  The  pioneer 
and  opener  up  [of  this]  deserves  as  great  a  name 
as  M.  Lesseps  or  any  other  man  who  has  not 
done  what  he  set  out  to  do."  He  continues 
that  his  company  now  has  steamers  twice  a 
month  to  Suez,  that  he  is  introducing  gas  into 
Bombay,  the  horse-railway  is  going  well,  that 
he  is  in  treaty  with  the  Government  for  the 
Tudor  Ice  House,  etc. 

On  the  eleventh  of  October,  1865,  their  first 
daughter,  Ethel,  was  born.  This  is  Mr. 
Stearns's  letter  to  his  wife  on  that  occasion. 

"A  little  while  before  tiffin  I  received  a  tele- 
gram from  -  — ,  dated  October.  16,  and  read- 
[161] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

ing,  'Mrs.  Stearns  presented  you  with  a  fine 
\\n\cJaughtfr.  Both  doing  well.'  These  golden 
words  produced,  as  you  may  imagine,  a  vari- 
ety of  emotions.  No  pen  of  mine  can  describe 
them.  The  tears  came  to  my  eyes  and  1  rushed 
to  my  room  and  down  on  my  knees.  . 

"  I  am  almost  beside  myself  with  joy.  .  .  . 
I  am  a  new  man.  I  want  to  go  out  and  nil 
everyone,  even  to  the  sweeper-woman,  to  re- 
joice with  me.  I  always  felt  that  to  have  a 
perfect  family  we  must  have  a  girl.  The  influ- 
ence is  so  good  upon  the  boys.  And  now  I  have 
got  my  wish.  Won't  this  give  a  zest  to  my 
Thanksgiving  Day  ?  .  .  .  I  had  a  jolly  dream 
night  before  last.  I  saw  you  again.  .  .  .  Un- 
fortunately, your  room  was  so  full  of  doors 
that  we  could  not  keep  people  out,  and  the 
more  I  tried  to  be  alone  with  you,  the  more 
did  these  people  come  in  the  way. 

"I  am  a  prisoner  without  you.  ...  I  am 
utterly  dependent  upon  you.  I  want  advice,  a 
word  of  love  and  encouragement.  ...  By  na- 
ture I  am  stronger  and  more  cheerful;  then  if 
you  can  keep  up  as  stout  and  plucky  a  heart 
as  I,  don't  you  think  you  deserve  the  more 
credit?" 

[162] 


PARIS 

"BOMBAY,  November  16,  1865. 

"You  will  be  pleased  to  learn  that  Dr.  David 
Livingstone  is  staying  with  me  just  now;  he 
arrived  from  Suratyesterday,and  will  probably 
stay  until  he  sails  for  Africa.  I  suppose  it  will 
interest  you  and  Julia  to  know  that  I  am  fitting 
him  out.  I  have  bought  for  him  some  dozen 
cows,  bullocks,  and  bull,  and  shall  further 
supply  him  with  muskets,  candles,  matches, 
preserved  meats,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  salt,  pepper, 
curry-stuff,  rice,  flour,  etc.,  etc.  So  when  you 
next  hear  of  the  mighty  deeds  of  the  good 
doctor  in  Africa,  you  will  remember  what  I 
did  for  the  cause  of  science.  .  .  . 

"  I  do  not  think  you  can  understand  what  is 
the  height  and  depth,  the  length  and  breadth, 
of  my  love  for  you.  Every  day  I  discover  that 
I  have  new  reason  to  love  you  more,  and  praise 
God  that  He  saw  fit  to  bestow  upon  me  the 
inestimable  boon  of  a  wife  who,  take  her  all  in 
all,  is  as  near  perfection  as  it  is  possible  to  find 
in  this  world.  .  .  .  Who  knows  you  as  well 
as  I  ?  ...  If  to  cause  perfect  contentment  in 
your  husband  is  not  the  standard  by  which  to 
judge  whether  you  make  a  perfect  wife,  what 
is  ?  Give  me  a  glass  of  cold  water,  a  crust  of 

[  163] 


MARRIED  I.n  i 

bread,  and  an  old  barn  with  your  smile,  rather 
than  all  the  luxuries  that  wealth  can  buy,  and 
wf  forced  to  live  apart.  When  people  turn  up 
their  noses  at  married  lift-,  1  like  to  give  them  a 
dose.  .  .  . 

"My  horse  came  down  with  me  and  rolled 
over  on  me  a  bit,  and  1  got  a  few  scratches  and 
bruises,  which  made  me  limp  for  a  day.  .  .  . 
Am  dining  out  every  evening." 

Of  how  Mrs.  Stearns's  days  were  filled  we 
have  her  own  account. 

"  Fancy  what  there  is  to  do !  First,  a  letter  to 
you  every  week,  two  letters  for  America,  one  a 
week  to  -  — ,  other  letters  occasionally,  a 
French  lesson  every  other  day.  For  the  lessons 
I  am  expected  to  learn  two  pages  of  notes,  with 
about  two  pages  of  composition,  and  read  as 
much  French  as  possible.  Every  day  one  Eng- 
lish and  one  French  newspaper  to  read ;  a  sing- 
ing lesson  every  other  day,  with  the  practising 
in  between;  the  three  books  in  which  I  \\ritt- 
down  what  I  notice  of  interest  in  the  children; 
the  care  of  the  family,  keeping  the  children  in 
clothes,  nursing  Ethel,  teaching  Willie  every 
morning;  occasional  calls  upon  friends;  inter- 


PARIS 

ruptions  by  calls;  scolded  on  every  hand  be- 
cause I  do  not  go  to  the  theatre,  see  more  of 
Paris,  take  my  children  on  excursions  into  the 
country,  etc.,  obliged  to  take  exercise  occa- 
sionally for  my  health.  .  .  .  Such  is  my  life, 
and  no  mortal  with  however  great  energy  can 
do  so  much ;  so  there  is  always  something  neg- 
lected. ...  I  think  you  will  find  there  is  a 
great  change  in  Willie.  He  has  matured  very 
much.  So  far  I  think  I  have  been  able  to  give 
him  a  pleasant  impression  of  Sunday.  To  take 
away  from  a  child  all  his  pleasant  recreations 
and  give  him  nothing  in  place  of  them  which  is 
agreeable,  and  then  tell  him  that  the  reason  he 
does  not  love  Sunday  is  because  he  has  a  wicked 
heart,  is  simply  absurd !  .  .  .  Cymon  has  left 
[December  i].  In  his  place  I  have  an  excellent 
French  cook,  a  real  cordon  bleu,  as  the  French 
say.  She  is  a  very  respectable  widow,  and  gives 
us  the  most  delicious  things  to  eat.  With 
Blanche,  a  French  bonne,  the  cook,  and  the  old 
ayah  I  am  quite  comfortable.  .  .  .  Ayah  takes 
the  three  boys  and  Blanche  the  baby."  .  .  . 

She  studied  French  with  Madame  d'Har- 
menon,  always  keeping  up  her  correspondence 
and  friendship  with  her.  I  quote,  in  transla- 

[  165] 


MARRIED  l.n  i 

from  a  letter  recently  received  from 
Madame  d'Harmenon.  "Oh,  yes,  I  knew  very 
\\  <ll,  loved  very  much,  and  greatly  admired  this 
dear  Mrs.  Stearns.  During  her  XMV  in  P.. 
we  were  joined  in  closest  friendship.  I  saw 
her  every  day,  at  first  for  her  French  lessons, 
and  also  to  guide  her,  to  help  her  to  keep  in 
a  strange  land  an  establishment  which  was 
difficult  on  account  of  the  excessive  care  which 
she  bestowed  on  her  very  young  children.  1 
saw  her  constantly.  She  studied  much,  had 
a  large  correspondence,  especially  during  the 
absence  of  her  husband. 

"System  ruled  her  household;  everything 
moved  with  great  regularity  and  the  greatest 
calm.  She  was  an  excellent  hostess,  both  at 
dinners  and  receptions.  Nothing  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  disagreeable  or  hard  for  her. 
And  what  I  admired  in  her  and  have  never, 
perhaps,  found  elsewhere  in  the  same  degree, 
was  her  perfect  evenness  of  disposition,  her 
patience,  her  stoicism.  .  .  .  Immediately  after 
her  arrival  in  Paris,  she  was  sorely  tried  by  the 
death  of  a  very  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Faithfull.  .  .  . 
I  then  found  her  admirable,  which  I  recalled 
when  other  greater  misfortunes  came  upon  her. 
(  "66  ] 


Mary  E.  Stearns,  Paris,  1 866 


PARIS 

...  I  learned  how  useful  her  life  was  to 
others,  how  admirable  her  last  days !  But  I  al- 
ways had  the  consolation  of  saying  to  myself 
that  she  had  many  years  of  perfect  happiness 
as  wife  and  mother.  ...  I  hope  I  do  not 
arrive  too  late  to  add  my  tribute  of  love  and 
admiration  to  a  memory  that  is  dear  to  me,  as 
to  so  many  others." 

Mrs.  Stearns  found  that  her  apartment  was 
really  too  small  for  her  large  family,  so,  on  the 
fourth  of  December,  she  left  the  rue  de  Rivoli, 
and  moved  into  an  apartment  of  eight  rooms 
at  27,  avenue  de  Marigny,  just  off  the  Champs 
Elysees,  where  the  boys  could  revel  in  the  slight 
falls  of  snow,  the  first  they  had  ever  seen.  Mrs. 
Stearns  rather  feared  the  effect  of  the  bracing 
air  on  them,  as  they  had  always  lived  in  a 
warm,  relaxing  climate.  But  they  seemed  only 
invigorated  by  it,  and  grew  stronger  every  day. 

To  quote  Mr.  Stearns  again :  "You  ought  to 
see  me  taking  my  early  constitutional,  morn- 
ings. ...  I  kiss  all  the  babies  in  the  street  as 
a  matter  of  course.  ...  I  attack  all  the  small 
children,  and  am  generally  disposed  to  father 
every  ragamuffin  I  meet.  Can't  help  it.  They 

[167] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

have  carried  off  my  babies  and  left  me  alone, 
and  I  have,  as  a  consequence,  to  do  the  best  I  can 
with  other  people's  children.  .  .  .  God  never 
intended  to  have  me  leave  the  care  of  these 
little  ones  all  to  you  ' 

"BOMBAY,  December  9,  1865. 
"Called  on  the  new  Command*  r-m-t'hief, 
Sir  Robert  Napier,  last  night  with  Dr.  Living- 
stone." 

"December  10. 

"Attended  Scotch  Church  last  night  with  Dr. 
Livingstone.  .  .  .  You  would  like  him  very 
much;  he  is  a  dear,  kind-hearted,  genial  man; 
no  bigotry  or  narrowness  about  him  at  all,  at 
the  same  time  a  thoroughly  honest  man.  .  .  . 
He  is  very  dry  and  witty,  and  makes  no  end  of 
fun." 

He  described  various  Hindu  entertainments 
which  Dr.  Livingstone  greatly  enjoyed,  and 
asked  :  "  Have  I  told  you  about  my  bhurra  kbana 
I  gave  the  other  night  in  honour  of  Dr.  Living- 
stone ? "  After  a  score  of  names,  some  Indian 
and  some  English,  "Miguel  gave  us  a  splendid 
[  168] 


PARIS 

dinner,  and  the  whole  thing  passed  off  with 
eclat.  ...  He  will  sail  for  Africa  on  the  first 
of  January.  Fancy!  my  dhobie  wants  to  go 
with  him.  Is  n't  that  an  enterprising  dhobie  ?" 

"January  6,  1866. 

"  Dear,  good,  kind,  large-hearted,  noble  Dr. 
Livingstone  has  gone.  Seldom  have  I  met  a 
man  for  whom  I  have  formed  so  strong  an  at- 
tachment. He  is  one  of  the  great  men  of  our 
century.  God  bless  him!" 

To  his  father  and  sister. 

"  January  20,  1866. 

"Oh,  it's  jolly  living  here  without  Emmie! 
Oh,  it 's  delightful !  I  never  knew  what  misery 
was  before.  Emmie  used  to  say  that  she  hoped 
I  would  never  be  so  contented  away  from  her 
as  to  bring  myself  to  the  belief  that  I  could  live 
without  her.  If  she  could  see  me,  I  fancy  her 
most  sanguine  hopes  would  be  more  than  real- 
ized. Why,  I  chafe  under  my  enforced  separa- 
tion more  than  ever  a  wild  tiger  chafed  over  his 
confinement.  Live  without  her  ?  Why,  life 
would  n't  be  worth  a  day's  purchase !  .  .  . 
[  169] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

Sometimes  I  ask  myself  what  I  should  do  were 
she  to  die.  ...  I  sometimes  think  that  I  never 
could  recover  from  the  shock  —  as  I  kn<.\v  1 
should  not  want  to.  ...  I  miss  her  so  now 
that  at  times  life  seems  an  intolerable  burden. 
I  would  not  stay  .  .  .  again  without  her  for 
all  the  money  in  the  Bank  of  Kngland.  .  .  . 
What  a  wonderfully  happy  lik  1  have  had  of  ir, 
and  what  a  prize  I  drew !  .  .  .  There  are  few 
women  living  who  are  Emmie's  superiors  in  all 
that  goes  toward  making  a  perfect  woman. 
She  is  wise,  far-seeing,  clear-headed ;  a  strong 
and  vigorous  intellect,  modest  and  honest, 
true-hearted  and  loving,  graceful,  elegant,  just 
proud  enough  to  make  people  respect  her 
thoroughly,  dignified,  self-reliant,  earnest  and 
equal  to  any  and  every  occasion.  .  .  .  With 
every  quality  of  strength  in  which  I  am  weak, 
a  strong  and  hearty  support  in  all  times  of 
doubt,  trial  and  difficulty.  ...  If  you  had 
seen  as  much  of  her  as  I  have,  you  would  say  as 
I  do,  only  adding,  '  Behold,  the  half  has  not 
beentold.'  .  .  .  I  speak  of  what  I  know.  Ihave 
seen  her  in  sunshine  and  storm,  and  how  she 
stood  by  and  sustained  me  during  this  last 
year's  struggle  only  two  know,  God  and  my- 

[  17°] 


PARIS 

self.  I  tell  you  I  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  her 
and  love  her,  and  I  do.  .  .  .  My  belief  is  that 
with  such  a  mother  my  boys  can't  help  grow- 
ing up  to  be  great  and  good  men. 

[The  following  appreciation,  in  the  words  of 
Tennyson,  was  sent  to  her  on  her  seventieth 
birthday,  by  one  of  her  sons. 

'No  angel,  but  a  dearer  being,  all  dipt 

'In  angel  instincts,  breathing  Paradise, 

'Interpreter  between  the  gods  and  men.   Happy  he 

'With  such  a  mother!  faith  in  womankind 

'  Beats  with  his  blood,  and  trust  in  all  things  high 

'Comes  easy  to  him."] 

She  likes  sympathy  and  is  as  dependent 
upon  my  love  as  a  child  (though  she  won't  own 
it).  At  the  same  time,  when  the  occasion  de- 
mands it,  she  can  prove  a  source  of  the  most 
wonderful  comfort  and  help  to  me.  .  .  .  Noble, 
lovely,  glorious  wife!  God  spare  her  life!" 

She  said :  "  I  live  on  your  expressions  of  love. 
But  do  not  praise  me  to  your  friends.  Although 
they  may  esteem  me,  they  have  not,  naturally, 
such  exalted  notions  of  my  worth  as  you." 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  his  father :  — 


MARRIED  LIFE 

"BOMBAY,  March  26,  1866. 

44  Earth,  air,  fire  and  water  combine  to  keep 
me  abroad.  ...  1  am  off  at  seven  A.  M.,  and 
the  other  night  I  did  not  finish  my  dinner  till 
one  A.  M.  This  is  exceptional,  but  shows  I 
have  n't  much  time  to  throw  away.  [On  an- 
other occasion:  "Fourteen  hours  of  steady 
writing  have  succeeded  in  giving  me  a  head- 
ache."] Since  I  came  out,  I  have  made  an 
enormous  amount  of  money.  The  Bombay 
and  Bengal  Steamship  Company,  Limited,  is 
flourishing.  .  .  .  Our  special  vocation  is  that 
of  treasurer  and  manager.  .  .  .  We  do  all  the 
business,  all  the  money  and  property  is  con- 
trolled by  us,  in  fact,  we  act  as  though  the  ves- 
sels were  entirely  ours.  .  .  . 

"Thanks  for  your  congratulations  over  the 
birth  of  Miss  Ethel.  God  bless  her!  You  sug- 
gest that  I  ought  to  be  grateful;  grateful!  The 
language  has  yet  to  be  discovered  that  can  pro- 
duce the  word  expressive  of  my  feelings  to  our 
dear  Father  for  his  mercies.  [And  to  his  sister] 
As  for  Fannie's  joke  [she  had  suggested  nam- 
ing the  baby  EthelrW,  for  her  hair  resembled 
her  father's],  I  am  afraid  that  jokes  in  our  fam- 
ily are  he-red-itary.  .  .  .  She  ought  to  strive 
[  172] 


PARIS 

to  red-eem  her  character  by  red-ucing  her  jokes 
to  a  more  palatable  consistency,  or  red-ouble 
her  efforts  to  red-uplicate  some  of  her  older 
and  better  ones." 

The  "  splurge  "  of  Americans  in  Paris  rather 
disgusted  Mrs.  Stearns.  She  saw  little  of  them, 
but  much  of  both  French  and  English.  Dr. 
Dupierris,  her  physician,  was  a  great  friend, 
the  habitue  of  her  house.  She  mentions  Mr. 
Healey's  taking  her  to  the  opera.  She  delighted 
in  the  musical  atmosphere  of  Paris,  and  was 
studying  singing  in  addition  to  her  other  duties, 
with  the  wife  of  die  famous  composer,  Lefebure- 
Wely.  She  deeply  enjoyed  his  magnificent  play- 
ing on  the  organ  of  Saint  Sulpice  —  then,  per- 
haps, as  now,  noted  for  the  best  music  in  Paris. 

After  President  Stearns's  return  to  America, 
Mr.  Faithfull,  now  Mr.  Chauntrell,  came  to 
make  her  a  visit.  He  had  changed  his  name  be- 
cause his  sister  made  speeches  in  behalf  of  the 
suffrage  movement !  Liking  to  recall  the  musi- 
cal evenings  in  Bombay,  he  played,  to  Mrs. 
Stearns's  accompaniment,  quaint  melodies  on 
the  concertina.  The  Kirbys,  too,  spent  a  week 
with  her,  later  in  the  spring. 
[  173] 


MARRIED  Ln  i 

Mr.  Stearns  had  bought,  some  time  prevt- 
<>iisl\.  a  lu.iiitihil  place  on  the  Hudson,  i 
New  York,  called  West  Farms,  \\lmh  he  had 
given  to  Mrs.  Stearns.    The  estate  must  have 
been  superb,  including  house,  stables,  gr< 
houses  and  all.  They  spoke  of  its  beauty  ami 
how  happy  their  life  there  would  be. 

After  their  "  miraculous  escape  "  from  failure 
in  1865,  the  skies  had  been  very  bright.  Mrs. 
Stearns,  however,  with  her  usual  clear  percep- 
tion, saw,  early  in  1866,  dark  clouds  far  ahead. 

"  In  order  to  have  more  ready  money,"  she 
wrote  him,  "let  my  place  be  sold.  [Yet]  it 
makes  me  more  anxious  regarding  our  rapidly 
increasing  little  family.  It  takes  away  the  feel- 
ing of  security  which  for  a  time  was  a  great 
comfort  to  me.  .  .  .  But  perhaps,  after  all,  I 
may  learn  to  trust  myself  and  my  little  ones 
more  entirely  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  alone 
can  provide  for  their  and  my  wants.  .  .  . 
Neither  I  nor  my  children  may  ever  live  to 
need  it,  and  if  we  do  and  cannot  have  it,  I 
suppose  the  discipline  of  suffering  and  struggle 
will  be  what  we  require.  .  .  . 

"/  cannot  bear  the  griff  of  our  separation. 
.  .  .  Life  is  so  short,  I  cannot  bear  to  think 

1 174] 


PARIS 

of  how  long  we  are  apart.  [I  feel]  submission 
with  little  hope  or  joy.  ...  I  tremble  lest  we 
never  meet  again." 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  her  on  the  sixth  of  May, 
1866:  "It  seems  to  me  as  though  I  could  re- 
move mountains  for  a  single  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion, a  kiss,  and  'That's  a  dear,  good  Will' 
from  you.  [This  year]  has  taught  us  how  en- 
tirely dependent  we  are  upon  each  other's  love. 
A  separation  must  never,  never,  never  happen 
again.  If  ever  I  leave  you  again,  it  will  be  when 
you  think  it  best,  and  not  when  I  do.  .  .  . 
Hurray,  here 's  the  Krishna  —  in,  and  here 
a  letter  from  you,  God  bless  you.  .  .  .  Now 
I  have  read  it,  and  a  stunning,  sweet,  good, 
kind,  loving,  cheering,  strengthening,  heart- 
reviving,  wifelike  letter  it  is.  ...  What  a 
good  cry  we  '11  have !  I  mean  to  make  a  regular 
fool  of  myself  when  I  see  you ! 

"Many  banks  are  failing.  God  is  trying  to 
teach  me  some  new  lesson.  [I  say  to  myself] 
'What  will  Emmie  do  [if  I  fail]  ?  It  will  kill 
her.  No,  remember  how  nobly  and  splendidly 
she  behaved  last  year.  She  is  the  same  wife 
that  sustained  you  then.'  .  .  .  Oh,  it's  very 
hard,  though." 

[  175 1 


MARRIED  I 

To  President  Stearns,  on  the  tenth  of  May : 
"Another  black  cloud  has  settled  over  Bom- 
bay.  Cotton  has  gone  down.    Don't  see  how 
we  are  to  escape  a  fearful  crash.    Banks  are 
harder  up  than  the  merchants.    I  never  felt 
more  the  need  of  my  darling  wife's  counsel." 
Mrs.  Stearns  to  Mr.  Stearns: — 

"May  14,  1866. 

"Vague,  undefined  fears  oppress  me.  There 
is  a  burden  always  as  of  some  approaching 
calamity.  Oh,  I  do  trust  that  all  we  have 
suffered,  and  perhaps  more,  is  not  so  soon  to 
be  gone  through  with  [again].  If  so,  may  God's 
will  be  done.  ...  I  experience  a  constant 
[desire]  to  have  my  life  in  every  little  thing 
conform  to  God's  will.  .  .  .  Has  not  the  sun- 
shine which  you  have  lately  enjoyed  been  very 
sweet  ?  And  you  could  never  have  had  it  had 
the  struggle  been  given  up.  ...  I  can  bear 
the  dreadful  separation  when  I  think  only  of 
myself.  But  you,  bearing  it  all  alone,  without 
me  to  help  you  bear  the  burden ! 
[Referring  to  Matheran,  she  said :  ] 
Dear,  sweet  spot!  I  can  never  read  your 
account  of  it  without  shedding  tears,  and  I 

[  176] 


PARIS 

feel  sure  that  I  shall  never  love  another  spot 
so  well.  .  .  . 

"Don't  try  too  hard  to  make  your  horse 
jump.  Don't  run  risks.  For  my  sake,  do,  do 
be  careful.  .  .  . 

"  I  find  myself  opening  the  morning  paper 
with  a  trembling  hand.  ...  If  you  fail  now, 
no  person  who  understands  business  will  think 
less  of  you.  .  .  .  You  are  still  young  and  will 
succeed  in  the  future  if  you  are  overcome  now. 
...  If  He  sends  prosperity,  we  must  try  to 
use  it  to  His  glory,  and  if  adversity,  we  must 
accept  it  at  His  hand." 

Mr.  Stearns  to  Mrs.  Stearns:  — 

"  May  27,  1866. 

"I  don't  think  I  should  worry  a  bit,  con- 
sidering that  the  present  financial  crash  is  the 
most  fearful  one  the  world  ever  saw,  at  least 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  .  .  .  Never  before 
in  mercantile  history  were  there  two  panics 
in  a  twelvemonth.  .  .  .  The  ramifications  of 
all  these  things  are  fearful  —  and  to  a  sensitive 
nature  at  times  almost  overwhelming.  Did 
you  not  warn  me  that  Bombay  was  on  the  eve 
of  destruction  even  three  years  ago  ?  .  .  .  Oh, 

[  177] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

if  I  had  you  for  a  partner  in  business,  it 
would  n't  take  me  long  to  make  a  fortune!  .  .  . 
The  reason  I  did  not  write  you  more  yes- 
terday is  because  I  got  absorbed  in  looking  at 
your  picture,  and  so  lost  about  half  an  hour. 
.  .  .  How  little  you  know  the  incentives  to 
action  and  struggle  I  have  when  I  think  of  you. 
Ah  !  Emmie,  without  you  the  world  would  in- 
deed be  a  blank.  .  .  .  God  forbid  that  either  of 
us  should  ever  feel  the  necessity,  should  one  of  us 
die,  of  marrying  again.  .  .  .  No  other  woman 
could  win  from  me  the  love  which  you  have 
won.  ...  A  man  can  remove  mountains  if  he 
only  has  a  woman  that  he  loves." 

Mr.  Stearns  to  President  Stearns:  — 

"June  9,  1866. 

"[It  is  now]  a  question  of  how  long  I  can 
hold  out.  ...  I  thank  God  for  past  mercies, 
I  praise  Him  that  my  trials  are  not  unbearable 
or  unendurable,  though  they  madden  me.  I 
feel  cast  down  but  not  destroyed.  ...  If  He, 
as  my  Master,  bids  me  fight  in  the  ranks  awhile, 
and  cuts  off  my  shoulder-straps,  I  don't  care, 
so  long  as  He  will  allow  me  still  to  be  His  ser- 
vant." 


PARIS 

"June  26. 

"God  alone  knows  what  I  have  passed 
through  during  the  past  six  weeks,  and  God 
only  knows  what  is  now  in  store  for  me.  .  .  . 
I  don't  care  for  loss  to  myself,  it's  the  last 
thing  I  think  of.  But  the  thought  of  the  ruin 
and  desolation  I  must  bring  to  others  almost 
at  times  drives  me  mad." 

Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  him  on  the  tenth  of  July : 
"  Prosperity  was  very  delightful,  and  I  love  to 
feel  that  God  meant  us  to  serve  Him  with  the 
influence  which  wealth  gives.  Perhaps  it  may 
be  so  yet.  But  if  not,  we  must  serve  Him  in 
other  ways,  and  must  show  to  the  world  that 
religion  has  power  to  sustain  us  under  all  cir- 
cumstances. ...  If  we  wish  to  be  happy,  it 
must  be  in  spite  of  circumstances. 

"Yesterday,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  avenue, 
in  front  of  me  walked  a  man  and  his  wife.  The 
man  was  partially  paralyzed,  and,  leaning  on 
the  arm  of  his  wife,  was  making  his  way  slowly 
along.  I  thought,  'Suppose  that  instead  of  a 
husband,  young,  noble,  full  of  life  and  energy, 
I  had  a  husband  like  that!  A  time  of  bitter 
disappointment  has  come  to  me,  but  I  would 

[  179  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

not  change  places  \\ith  those  people/  Last 
year  when  affairs  were  in  a  similar  precarious 
state,  1  had  to  endure  the  parting  from  you, 
and  I  knew  not  how  long  it  might  be.  I  lost 
a  friend  such  as  I  shall  never  find  again.  My 
heart  was  almost  broken  at  the  thought  of  her 
loss.  I  was  in  miserable  health,  and  in  a 
strange  land.  Terrible  as  is  your  suffering,  - 
and  I  know  well  what  agony  you  endure,  - 
are  there  not  evils  far  more  to  be  dreaded  from 
which  we  have  thus  far  been  spared  ?" 

West  Farms  having  been  sold  on  the  eighth 
of  July,  1866,  she  continued:  "If  you  suffer 
as  you  suffer  at  the  thought  of  the  future  while 
you  still  have  the  hope  of  gaining  a  livelihood 
for  your  family,  what  must  a  mother  suffer  who 
feels  that  she  may  be  left  at  any  moment 
with  only  her  own  hands  to  provide  for  those 
she  loves  ?  God  grant  it  may  seem  right  to  lay 
aside  a  sum  which  shall  relieve  me  from  great 
anxiety  regarding  the  future,  something  that 
shall  give  me  assurance  that  my  dear  children 
shall  not  suffer  from  want.  ...  I  feel  that 
I  do  not  yet  know  trial  so  long  as  my  dear 
husband  and  children  are  spared  to  me.  .  .  . 
[  180] 


PARIS 

If  I  cannot  be  happy  so  long  as  I  have  them, 
I  have  little  reason  to  anticipate  happiness  in 
this  world.  .  .  .  Courage,  dear  Will!  We 
married  for  love  and  we  will  be  happy  in  that 
love,  whatever  may  happen. 

"If  I  ever  have  to  choose  between  leaving 
you  or  the  children,  I  shall  not  hesitate  what 
to  do,  though  my  heart  may  be  breaking  at  the 
thought  of  separation  from  my  loved  ones. 
You  know  me  well  enough  to  know  that  my  only 
happiness  is  in  following  you  wherever  duty 
may  call  you.  And  my  suffering  this  year  has 
been  because  I  could  not  follow  you.  .  .  . 
I  am  not  very  well  fitted  for  adversity,  but  I 
do  not  imagine  that  with  all  your  energy  we  are 
always  to  be  poor.  Comfort  yourself  with  the 
thought  that  you  have  secured  for  your  family 
enough  to  keep  them  from  want.  ...  In  some 
respects  I  am,  and  always  shall  be,  an  extrava- 
gant wife.  .  .  .  I  'm  not  exactly  fond  of  dress, 
but  I  have  a  love  for  real  and  good  things.  .  .  . 
Perhaps  we  shall  be  happier  in  adversity  than 
in  prosperity,  —  who  can  tell  ?  Perhaps  riches 
would  ruin  our  souls  and  the  souls  of  our  chil- 
dren. .  .  .  Life  is  very  strange,  and  what  we 
think  at  the  time  to  be  dreadful  disappoint- 


MARRIED  LIFE 

mcnts  often  turn  out  to  be  great  blessings.  .  .  . 
God  knows  what  is  best  for  us,  and  we  must 
trust  in  I  lim.  I  do  hope  that  you  will  be  filled 
with  courage  and  hope,  and  that  you  will  battle 
manfully  and  long  before  you  give  up,  and  that 
if  give  up  you  must,  you  will  be  sustained  in 
a  wonderful  manner.  May  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  Will!  The  hardest  trial  of  all  is  to 
feel  that  you  must  bear  all  alone." 

It  was  not  a  new  thought  to  Mrs.  Stearns 
that  adversity  acts  "as  a  refining  fire,  purify- 
ing and  elevating  the  nature  of  the  sufferer." 
It  was  not  an  "experimental  conviction"  that 
a  loss  may  be  a  gain.  She  had  foreseen  that 
trouble  was  near.  Her  heart  had  been  sad- 
dened by  what  her  mind  knew  was  inevitable. 
But  she  was  not  surprised.  No  sorrow  came 
upon  her  unprepared. 

Full  of  hope  as  Mr.  Stearns  had  always  been, 
now  that  misfortune  seemed  close  upon  them, 
he  was  amazed.  He  could  not  believe  it.  He 
had  looked  to  his  wife  for  sound  advice  in 
prosperous  days,  and  had  relied  upon  her  clear 
judgment.  Was  encouragement  to  fail  him 
now? 

[ 


PARIS 

"  Disappointments  are  a  part  of  our  discipline 
here,"  she  said,  "and  they  must  come,  if  not 
in  one  way,  certainly  in  another."  She  was 
filled  with  confidence  that  "there  is  one  broad 
sky  over  all  the  world,  and  whether  it  be  blue 
or  cloudy,  the  same  heaven  beyond  it.  ... 

"  I  feel  the  glow  of  health  in  every  vein.  .  .  . 
Hope  can  do  no  harm,  so  I  allow  myself  to 
hope.  .  .  .  I  wonder  at  my  own  hopefulness !" 
And  so  it  came  about  that  she  was  filled  with 
that  same  bright  optimism  so  characteristic  of 
him. 


VIII 

Mr.  Stearns' s  Failure 

"THE  firm  of  Stearns,  Hobart  and  Company 
was  one  of  the  last  to  go  down,  but  it  could  n»r 
stand  against  the  universal  disaster."  On  the 
fifteenth  of  July,  1866,  the  following  telegram 
was  received  by  Mrs.  Stearns:  "George  ar- 
rived. Have  stopped.  Don't  be  downhearted. 
Friends  very  kind.  All  well." 

Three  days  later  Mr.  Stearns  sent  this  letter 
to  President  Stearns.  "  I  cannot  describe  to 
you  the  agony  through  which  I  passed  before 
acknowledging  to  myself  and  the  world  that 
I  must  suspend.  .  .  .  You  know  from  former 
letters  how  anxious  I  have  been,  and  from  your 
experience  of  last  year,  can  judge  that  I  did 
not  surrender  the  ship  until  there  was  no  help 
for  it.  ...  I  don't  see  the  use  of  being  down- 
hearted; better  men  than  I  have  met  with 
worse  troubles  and  have  lived,  and  I  hope  to 
bless  God  for  them.  .  .  .  Creditors  are  kind 
and  considerate.  Shareholders  in  Steamship 

[  184] 


MR.  STEARNS' s  FAILURE 

Company  seem  determined  that  we  shall  keep 
this  business.  .  .  .  God  willing,  the  sun  will 
shine  again,  for  it  is  only  an  eclipse.  .  .  .  Not- 
withstanding my  determination  to  look  upon 
all  this  philosophically,  .  .  .  years  must  pass 
before  I  recover  entirely  from  it.  ...  I  think 
He  intends,  after  purifying  me,  to  try  me  again. 
I  don't  believe  that  the  influence  of  myself  and 
family  for  Christ  is  to  be  wiped  out  yet." 
To  Eliza  Stearns:  — 

"July  21. 

"It  remains  for  me  to  buckle  on  the  har- 
ness and  fight  again.  It  is  not  in  the  blood  to 
give  up  while  there  is  a  leg  to  stand  on,  and 
when  my  last  leg  goes,  you  may  sing 

'  Poor  brother  Will,'  needs  must  I  wail 
As  some  in  doleful  dumps, 
For  'when  his  legs  were  smitten  off 
He  fought  upon  his  stumps.' 

"Our  Heavenly  Father  does  not  always 
choose  in  this  life  to  give  us  His  reasons  for  deal- 
ing with  us  as  He  does,  but  sometimes  He  lets 
in  just  light  enough  to  see  the  glory  beyond  the 
cloud.  .  .  .  People  will  all  be  saying, 'There  is 
poor  Will  Stearns  and  his  flock.  Why  is  it  that 
poor  people  all  have  such  large  families  ? ' 3 

1 185] 


MARRIED  I 

To  President  Stearns :  - 

"August  i. 

"Thank  God  that  my  wife  has  been  my  sun 
in  prosperity,  and  is  still  the  same  bright  sun 
in  adversity,  only  the  rays  seem  brighter  and 
warmer,  more  comforting  and  genial,  because 
of  the  great  darkness  which  would  else  en- 
velop me.  .  .  .  Of  course  I  would  like  to 
know  the  reasons  for  all  these  trouhlt -s  l>ut  I 
am  content  not  to  know  them  if  He  says, 
'Wait.'  .  .  .  I  cannot  help  constantly  blessing 
God  that  we  both  feel  alike  in  this  dark  hour, 
that  neither  of  us  .  .  .  is  cast  down.  It  argues 
well  for  the  future." 

To  Mrs.  Stearns:  "Your  glorious  letters 
.  .  .  have  done  me  a  world  of  good.  They  are 
so  plucky,  so  full  of  hope,  you  keep  up  such  a 
stout  heart,  are  so  well,  care  so  little  for  present 
failure  in  consideration  of  numberless  bless- 
ings left.  George  said:  'That's  just  like  Em- 
mie. You  will  find  that  in  adversity  she  will 
come  out  wonderfully  strong.'  ...  I  know 
that  I  am  but  an  atom,  but  I  know  also  that 
He  who  does  not  permit  a  sparrow  to  fall  with- 
out His  notice,  sends  good  and  evil  alike  upon 
[  .86] 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

us  for  our  good.  .  .  .  You  are  a  splendid  lot 
to  fight  for,  and  though  in  this  late  battle  I 
have  got  rather  the  worst  of  it,  it  will  all 
come  right  in  the  end.  .  .  .  Whatever  happens 
to  me,  try  to  train  them  up  to  remember  me 

with  affection." 

"  August  5. 

"To-morrow  we  are  to  have  our  meeting  — 
creditors  —  and  I  trust  they  will  do  something 
satisfactory.  [Nearly]  everyone  is  very  kind, 
and  the  general  hope  is  that  we  shall  soon  be 
under  way  again.  From  the  enclosed  article 
you  will  see  that  after  all  we  have  some  cause 
for  gratitude." 

The  article  referred  to  was  called  "  The 
Overland  Freight  Route,"  printed  in  the 
Englishman,  "the  best  paper  in  the  East," 
on  the  twenty-seventh  of  July,  1866.  On 
account  of  the  clear  way  in  which  it  expresses 
the  attitude  of  Bombay,  and  because  of  what 
it  meant  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns,  I  insert  a 
few  extracts. 

"Stearns,  Hobart  and  Company  were  the 
prime  agents  of  opening  up  the  Overland 


MARKII  i>  I 

Freight  Route  from  I -'.npland  r«»  India,  via 
Egypt  and  the  Red  Sea.  .  .  .  The  terrible 
disasters  of  the  Bombay  market,  particularly 
in  cotton,  have,  as  one  mutilated  telegram 
yesterday  declared,  compelled  Stearns,  Hobart 
and  Company  to  suspend  payment.  Mean- 
time we  are  reaping  the  fruit  of  their  successful 
exertions  to  open  up  a  new  and  shorter  route 
for  that  immense  commerce  of  the  Eastern 
world,  which  still  mainly  goes  around  the  Cape. 
This  fruit  comes  in  the  transmission  of  entire 
English  cargoes  to  India  by  the  way  of  Suez, 
aided  by  the  new  line  of  freight  and  passenger 
steamers,  the  Bbima,  NaJa,  Gunga,  Yamuna, 
Krishna,  and  others.  .  .  .  We  particularly 
regret  to  chronicle  the  stoppage  of  so  enter- 
prising a  house  at  this  time  (well-known  to 
have  been  for  years  the  leading  American 
house  in  Bombay),  if  it  were  only  in  considera- 
tion of  their  connection  with  that  successful 
and  growing  rival  of  the  P.  &  O.  monopoly, 
the  Bombay  and  Bengal  Steamship  Company. 
...  If  the  Overland  Freight  Route  should 
prove  to  be  as  practicable  as  it  at  present  ap- 
pears, and  as  the  five  weeks'  transit  from  Liver- 
pool to  Bombay  of  the  full  cargo  of  an  English 
[  '881 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

merchantman  declares  it  to  be,  then  we  have 
as  important  a  change  in  the  movement  of 
English  trade,  and  as  great  a  revolution  in 
commerce,  as  has  occurred  during  the  century; 
or,  at  least,  since  the  day  that  brought  steam 
navigation  to  India.  .  .  .  No  one  can  doubt 
that  the  new  transit  through  Egypt  is  the  fruit 
of  considerable  negotiation  with  the  Viceroy 
and  his  Minister  of  Public  Works,  Nubar 
Pasha.  ...  It  is  beyond  controversy  that  the 
Viceroy  opened  negotiations  with  the  Amer- 
ican house  just  named,  and  consented  to  give 
pledges  and  lay  plans  which  are  now  being 
carried  out.  These  negotiations  occupied  some 
eight  months,  and  extended  from  March  to 
October,  1865.  .  .  . 

"It  was  at  once  perceived  that  if  it  were  to 
be  a  success,  a  new  and  double  line  of  railway 
would  be  needed.  ...  A  double  track  is  now 
being  laid  from  Alexandria  to  Suez.  ...  It 
is  to  be  completed  within  five  years  from  No- 
vember, 1865.  Its  estimated  cost  is  from  one 
and  a  half  to  two  millions  sterling,  while  a 
much  longer  time  and  a  rough  estimate  of  one 
hundred  millions  sterling  have  been  set  forth 
as  the  final  requirement  (if  it  ever  be  finished), 


MARRIED  I 

of  the  great  French  Ship  canal  of  M.  Lesseps 
and  his  friends.  .  .  .  Let  the  new  arrange- 
ments be  once  finished  and  in  full  working 
trim,  .  .  .  and  in  five  years  more  the  Cape 
route,  for  all  valuable  merchandise,  or,  say 
for  all  India  goods,  will  be  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Only  the  best  sailing  ships  can  reckon  on  a 
four  months'  voyage  from  Calcutta  to  Liver- 
pool round  the  Cape.  Let  it  be  made  in  one 
month,  via  Egypt  .  .  .  and  what  merchant 
will  not  choose  to  turn  over  his  money  four 
times  a  year  rather  than  once  ?  .  .  . 

"Unlike  the  French  steamers  and  their 
dependence  on  the  coal  depots  of  the  P.  &  O. 
Company,  the  B.  &  B.  Steamship  Company 
have  coal  supplies  entirely  their  own.  They 
have  also  obtained  land  at  Mazagon,  just  above 
the  Fort  of  Bombay,  and  are  in  full  enjoy- 
ment of  all  the  advantages  of  her  noble  harbour. 
Very  extensive  sheds  and  godowns  have  been, 
and  are  being,  erected  there,  and  all  promises 
success.  We  hope  that  Stearns,  Hobart  and 
Company's  suspension  may  soon  be  followed 
by  a  resumption  of  business.  Come  what  may, 
we  are  certain  that  they  have  deserved  well  of 
the  public  for  the  very  prominent  part  they 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

have  taken  in  the  opening  up  of  the  Overland 
Freight  Route  to  the  commerce  of  England, 
India,  Europe  and  the  world." 

And  from  the  Bombay  Gazette,  August  14, 
1866:  "There  never  was  a  more  legitimate 
enterprise  developed  on  this  side  of  India,  and 
never  one  more  faithfully  and  zealously  worked 
in  the  best  interests  of  shareholders.  It  is  to  Mr. 
Stearns,  the  enterprising  merchant  who  estab- 
lished the  company,  that  the  public  are  indebted 
for  an  accomplished  Overland  Freight  Route. 
Whether  the  Bombay  and  Bengal  Steamship 
Company  will  expand  into  a  great  and  wealthy 
company  carrying  all  our  overland  freight,  or 
whether  it  will  sink  into  insignificance,  .  .  .  the 
Overland  Freight  Route  has  been  established.  .  . 

"For  the  service  done  to  commerce,  and 
for  the  service  done  to  the  public  in  success- 
fully establishing  an  overland  freight  route, 
Mr.  Stearns  deserves  the  thanks  of  all;  and 
we  trust  that  his  valuable  services  will  be  se- 
cured for  the  welfare  of  a  company  whose 
interests  he  has  so  much  at  heart." 

To  resume  Mr.  Stearns's  letter:  "Is  it  not 
a  kind  article,  and  so  correct  too  ?  It  will 


MARRIED  LIFE 

do  us  immense  service,  for  it  is  one  of  those 
editorials  which  are  sure  to  be  copied  all  « 
the  world.  I  knew  that  we  had  done  a  wonder- 
ful thing  in  this  overland  business,  and  I  knew 
that  we  deserved  great  praise  for  it.  ...  Well, 
it's  a  great  comfort  to  have  such  a  tribute  as 
this  at  such  a  time,  and  I  thank  God  for  it. 
It  will  do  much  to  take  away  the  sting  of  dis- 
grace attendant  upon  our  stoppage,  and  in 
America  it  will  act  strongly  in  our  favour. 
Americans,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  are  very 
proud  of  the  deeds  of  their  countrymen.  .  .  . 
It  is  bitter  to  have  this  praise  at  so  late  a  day, 
and  yet  the  present  occasion  drew  it  forth, 
and  after  all  it  may  be  but  the  beginning  of 
brighter  and  happier,  because  better,  days. 
I  confess  to  a  feeling  of  pride  and  satisfaction 
when  reading  this  article,  that  I  have  not  felt 
for  a  long  time.  I  trust  that  it  does  not  exalt 
and  lift  me  up  in  my  own  estimation;  but  as 
a  woman  cannot  be  insensible  to  praises  of  her 
charms  when  she  knows  she  is  beautiful,  so  a 
man,  when  success  attends  the  dearest  object 
of  his  ambition,  and  a  world  awards  him  his 
full  meed  of  recognition  of  what  he  has  done, 
is  not  human  if  he  does  not  like  it,  and  feel 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

proud  of  it.  A  Christian  will  try  to  make  it 
redound  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  elevation 
of  his  fellow  men  —  a  worldling  will  be  often- 
times crushed  by  it. 

"Now  I  am  happy  because  I  have  done 
something  for  you  to  be  proud  of;  you  always 
told  me  that  you  had  confidence  in  my  ability, 
and  many  and  many  a  time  when  I  was  discour- 
aged and  broken  down,  almost,  this  thought 
has  cheered  and  strengthened  me.  If  I  have 
felt  weak,  I  have  said,  'Emmie  does  not  wor- 
ship blindly;  while  she  sees,  and  none  better, 
my  faults,  she  tells  me  of  them  in  order  that 
I  may  be  a  better  man,  and  approach  more 
nearly  her  ideal  of  perfection.  So  when  she 
praises,  I  know  she  is  honest,  and  because  she 
is  so  wise  and  clear-headed,  there  must  be 
enough  in  what  she  says  to  encourage  me  to 
greater  exertions,  greater  self-reliance  —  under 
God  — and  a  better  faith  in  the  talents  which 
He  has  given  me.'  I  can't  help  saying  continu- 
ally to  myself,  'How  pleased  Emmie  will  be; 
how  glad  and  gratified.'  I  know  more  than  I 
even,  because  while  you  in  your  heart  believed 
it  all  before,  I  think  you  love  me  too  well  not 
to  feel  satisfaction  at  the  world's  recognition  of 
[  193  ] 


MARRIED  I 

what  you  yourself  were  so  long  and  well  aware 
of.  I  know  when  people  praise  and  speak  well 
of  you,  my  heart  always  thumps  a  gratified 
response.  And  because  we  love  each  other  so 
warmly,  we  are  the  more  anxious  to  have  the 
world  endorse  our  judgment. 

"  1  said  just  now  that  human  nature  could 
not  be  insensible  to  such  words  as  those  in  the 
article  I  refer  to;  but  after  all,  1  should  not 
care  a  bit,  did  I  not  feel  that  you  would  be  so 
greatly  gratified.  I  live  for  you,  I  would  die 
for  you,  and  every  word  of  approval  from  you 
is  choicer  than  gold.  .  .  .  Did  I  tell  you  that 
poor  Ramchunder  Balcrishna  died  last  Thurs- 
day ?  He  was  ill  for  four  or  five  days  only  with 
fever.  Poor  fellow,  he  has  left  his  wife  . 
with  seven  children,  and  not  a  penny  for  their 
support.  ...  I  wish  I  was  in  a  position  to 
help  them.  How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of 
Providence!" 

"August  20. 

"What  with  the  panic  in  England,  China 
and  India,  the  famine  in  Bengal,  and  the  wars 
and  rumours  of  wars  all  over  the  world  [we 
are  in  a  fearful  financial  state]." 

[  194] 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

"August  24. 

"I  have  just  received  yours  of  the  third 
August.  .  .  .  You  have  got  the  bad  news,  and 
it  has  not  killed  you  or  made  you  sick  or  ner- 
vous; thank  God  for  all  that.  I  am  really  sur- 
prised to  see  you  stand  up  so  under  it  all;  not 
but  that  I  knew  you  would,  too;  but  the  con- 
firmation of  my  expectations  is  extremely  sat- 
isfactory, and  then  you  are  indulging  in  hopes 
for  the  future.  You  develop  in  distress  so 
rapidly  that  I,  with  my  sorrows,  can't  keep  pace 
with  you  and  your  hopes.  This  is  as  it  should 
be.  You  are  so  good,  so  noble,  such  a  true- 
hearted  wife." 

How  rarely  comforting  that  appreciation  of 
this  peculiar  courage  of  Mrs.  Stearns  should 
have  come  first  from  him! 

During  the  last  week  or  two  of  August, 
Mrs.  Stearns  moved  into  another  apartment, 
92,  Boulevard  Malesherbes,  opposite  the  Pare 
Monceau.  "The  worst  is  passed,"  she  wrote 
to  America.  "You  will  see  what  a  reputation 
Will  has  gained  in  the  East,  and  will  under- 
stand how  easy  it  will  be  for  him  to  regain  his 
position  in  connection  with  his  Eastern  busi- 

1 195] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

If  he  could  keep  the  Steamship  Com- 
pany it  would  be  an  immense  business  in  it- 
self. ...  It  is,  humanly  speaking,  the  work 
of  his  hands.  .  .  .  Since  Will's  stoppage  I 
have  become  so  pained  at  the  thought  that, 
if  he  gives  up  all  now,  others  are  to  enjoy  all 
the  fruits  of  his  labours,  that,  hard  as  it  is,  I 
think  I  could  gladly  even  part  from  my  chil- 
dren, and  go  back  with  Will  to  India,  th.it  he 
might  retrieve  somewhat  his  position  before 
coming  to  America.  When  once  I  can  see  that 
it  is  for  Will's  interest  to  come  to  America, 
I  shall  be  happy  to  come,  but  that  he  should 
come  home  disappointed  and  discouraged  when 
he  might  easily  retrieve  his  position  elsewhere, 
I  cannot  bear.  .  .  .  Mr.  Chauntrell  and  his 
daughter  are  still  with  me." 

This  letter  gives  a  suggestion  of  the  new 
anxieties  which  beset  Mrs.  Stearns.  Should 
they  send  the  three  boys  to  America,  and  go 
back  to  India  themselves  with  the  baby  ? 
Should  they  all  stay  in  England,  managing  the 
Bombay  business  from  London  ?  Should  they 
all  come  to  America,  as  they  had  intended 
when  they  left  Bombay  nearly  a  year  and  a 
half  before,  leave  all  the  loose  threads  at  liberty 

[  196] 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

to  entangle  themselves  inextricably,  and  begin 
again  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  in  America  ? 
One  thing  was  settled.  The  boys  could  not 
return  to  India.  European  children  cannot 
endure  the  climate.  If  their  parents  stayed  in 
Europe,  or  went  to  America,  the  boys  could  stay 
with  them.  If  they,  on  the  contrary,  returned 
to  India,  the  boys  would  be  sent  to  America. 

On  the  twelfth  of  October,  she  wrote :  "Will 
came  in  upon  us  unexpectedly.  .  .  .  He  has 
retained  the  business  of  the  Steamship  Com- 
pany. All  the  principal  firms  in  Bombay  insisted 
that  he  should,  though  so  lucrative  is  it  that  one 
is  really  surprised  at  such  an  evidence  of  un- 
selfishness." 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  his  father  from  London 
on  the  same  day :  "  I  intended  to  come  by  the 
Bhima  August  20  from  Bombay  —  was  nearly 
packed,  etc.  when  by  the  advice  of  our  trustees, 
I  concluded  to  wait  over  another  boat;  the 
Bhima  went  down  in  the  Red  Sea  with  nearly 
all  on  board.  .  .  .  Only  think,  once  I  have 
gone  nearly  the  length  of  the  Atlantic  north 
and  south,  once  across  the  Indian  Ocean,  twice 
the  Bay  of  Bengal,  twice  the  Persian  Gulf,  once 
up  the  Indian  Ocean,  nine  times  the  Arabian 


MARRIED  I 

Sea,  seven  times  the  Red  Sea,  seven  times  the 
Mediterranean,  over  a  dozen  times  the  Chan- 
nel, seven  times  the  Atl.mtu-,  and  yet  here  1 
am  safe  and  sound  and  hearty,  to  praise  God 
for  my  wife,  three  boys  and  girl,  my  fat! 
mother,  brothers,  sisters,  loss  of  property  and 
everything  else  that  He  sees  fit  to  send  me." 

I  his  is  his  impression  of  his  little  family 
after  his  long  absence:  "Willie  is  the  same 
good,  tender-hearted,  truthful,  cautious  boy 
.  .  .  who  will  win  his  way  in  the  world  not 
...  so  much  by  dash  as  care.  .  .  .  Hal's 
power  of  distinguishing  truth  and  poetry  is 
as  yet  limited.  ...  He  is  full  of  dash,  goes 
ahead  without  looking  one  inch  before  him, 
and  will  break  both  legs  and  arms,  dislocate 
his  shoulders  .  .  .  and  have  at  least  fifty  nar- 
row escapes  before  he  is  twenty-one.  Arthur 
is  a  trump.  .  .  .  He  is  as  brave  as  a  little  lion, 
has  ten  times  the  pluck  of  Willie  and  Harold 
together.  .  .  . 

"  Ethel,  they  say,  is  the  image  of  her  papa. 
.  .  .  She  has  Frazar's  temper,  and  is  quick  as 
a  flash.  Emmie  has  changed  wonderfully.  She 
has  grown  very  stout  .  .  .  and  is  as  queenly 
and  dignified  as  one  could  wish." 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

That  does  not  sound  much  cast  down !  And 
he  concluded:  "Business  prospects  are  good. 
I  see  no  reason  to  worry  over  the  (future. " 

They  both  turned  toward  India  instinctively. 
In  Bombay  Mr.  Stearns  was  well  known  and 
had  hosts  of  friends;  but  then  —  they  would 
be  obliged  to  leave  the  boys,  who  would  have 
forgotten  their  parents  before  they  could  see 
them  again.  After  more  than  a  month  of  in- 
decision, they  all  sailed  for  America  on  the 
twenty-third  of  November,  1866;  and  on  the 
seventh  of  January,  1867,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns, 
with  Ethel,  were  already  on  their  way  back  to 
England. 

The  three  boys,  with  their  English  nurse, 
had  been  left  in  Amherst,  with  President  and 
Mrs.  Stearns,  his  second  wife,  in  the  imme- 
diate care  of  Miss  Eliza  Stearns.  The  rooms 
on  the  third  floor  were  fitted  up  for  them,  even 
their  meals  being  served  there.  Other  than  this 
restriction,  Miss  Eliza  was  "free  to  do  with 
them  as  she  thought  best,"  Mrs.  Stearns,  how- 
ever, constantly  advising  that  they  must  not  go 
out  to  meals,  for  she  did  not  "  like  the  idea  of 
children  being  at  table  with  older  people,"  and 
that  "  they  must  learn  to  go  to  sleep  in  the  dark  " ; 
[  199  J 


MARRIED  LIFE 

and  indicating  the  number  of  cold  baths  they 
should  receive. 

1  hey  had  not  realized  how  "terrible  would 
be  the   partita   with   the  dear  boys."    M 
Stearns  was  quite  prostrated  by  it. 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  his  sister  Eliza  I 
Liverpool,  on  tin-  rwrnty-sixth  of  January, 
1867:  "Would  n't  I  like  to  see  those  boys  to- 
day :  1  wonder  if  they  are  happy?  Did  they 
feel  sorry  when  we  left  ?  I  suppose  not.  Will 
they  forget  us?  Doubtless.  .  .  .  It  is  part  of 
the  discipline  of  life  that  we  should  contend. 
Were  all  our  fondest  .  .  .  wishes  realized  in 
this  world,  we  should  make  but  a  sorry  ap- 
pearance in  the  next." 

"  February  8. 

"Emmie  eagerly  seized  your  letter  and 
opened  it.  When  her  eye  fell  upon  the  little 
note  from  Willie  sent  to  MAMA,  it  was  too  much. 
She  burst  into  tears,  and  cried  like  a  child  for 
a  long  rime.  It  is  not  often  that  Emmie  gives 
way  to  her  feelings,  but  a  mother's  heart  is 
tender,  and,  I  may  add,  sometimes  a  father's 
too.  .  .  .  Teach  all  the  boys  to  be  honest,  no 
matter  how  difficult  it  may  seem.  Abhor  lying, 
deception,  prevarication,  and  slipperiness.  .  .  . 

20° 


MR.  STEARNS'S  FAILURE 

God  bless  the  lads !   How  our  hearts  beat  tu- 
multuous marches  whenever  we  think  of  them." 

"  February  27. 

"  Business  progresses  slowly  but  favourably. 
The  steamers  of  our  company  are  too  small. 
The  overland  business  is  growing  so  fast,  be- 
coming so  gigantic,  that  there  is  no  such  word 
as  fail  about  it.  ...  Here  is  my  programme 
-  first  to  pay  off  all  my  debts ;  then  to  put  by 
enough  to  live  comfortably  upon,  and  keep  my 
family  from  want,  should  I  be  taken  suddenly 
away." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  spent  two  months  in 
England,  sometimes  in  London,  sometimes  in 
Liverpool,  sometimes  visiting  friends  in  Har- 
row and  Hedley.  Both  the  Kirbys  and  Mr. 
Chauntrell  were  in  London.  Mrs.  Stearns 
described  a  visit  she  paid  with  Mrs.  Kirby  to 
the  House  of  Commons,  when  they  looked 
through  the  grating  and  heard  Disraeli  speak. 
Mr.  Stearns  was  taking  singing  lessons,  and  in 
quiet  interims  recited  French  to  his  wife,  which 
he  continued  to  do  on  the  steamer  till  they 
reached  India. 

He  wrote:  "Emmie  has  been  hard  at  work 
[  201  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

\\irh  lur  Bible  of  late,  and  nfti-nrimcs  spends 
hours  over  it;  she  says  she  never  before  began 
to  dream  even  of  the  riches  it  contains.  I  can 
see  that  she  is  growing  and  ripening  so  percep- 
tibly that  I  sometimes  find  myself  wonder 
it"  it  is  for  the  reaping.  God  grant  that  if"  it 
please  Him,  we  may  all  have  many  happy 
years  together,  .  .  .  but  if  He  says  it  is  bett<  r 
not  so,  then  may  we  all  meet  in  that  other  coun- 
try where  there  are  no  more  separations.  .  .  . 
The  fruit  of  long  years  of  toil  has  been  taken 
from  us,  and  we  have  been  called  to  endure 
painful  separations,  but  the  loved  circle  is  un- 
broken." 

The  middle  of  April  Mrs.  Stearns,  with  Ethel, 
left  for  Paris,  where  she  went  "  shopping  from 
morning  till  night,"  as  well  as  visiting  all  the 
galleries  and  the  great  Exposition.  She  was 
distressed  by  the  preparations  already  making 
in  Paris  for  war. 


[  202  ] 


IX 

Last  Year  in  India 

ON  the  third  of  May,  1867,  they  sailed  for 
India,  reaching  Bombay  on  the  twenty-fifth, 
after  a  pleasant  passage.  They  stayed  at  first 
with  Mr.  Christian,  a  very  cultivated  man 
"possessed  of  most  amiable  qualities,"  who 
"has  the  merit  of  being  very  fond  of  Will." 
Mrs.  Stearns  continued:  "I  need  not  tell  you 
that  these  first  weeks  in  Bombay  are  in  many 
respects  very  trying,  there  is  so  much  to  re- 
mind me  of  the  dear  children  and  of  Mrs. 
Faithfull,  whose  friendship  was  perhaps  the 
secret  of  my  love  for  India.  At  present  I  am 
very  much  troubled  with  weak  eyes,  so  that  I 
am  sometimes  unable  to  read  or  write  at  all, 
and  sit  looking  at  the  blank  walls.  ...  I  trust 
the  darlings  are  well,  and  may  God  in  His  in- 
finite mercy  spare  them  and  us  to  meet  again." 
This  "trouble  with  her  eyes"  was  Mrs. 
Stearns's  new  affliction.  It  became  more  and 
more  serious,  until  it  was  at  last  the  cause  of 

[  203  ] 


MARRIKD  l.n  i 

their   leaving   India.    As  no  calamity  could 
come  upon  her  \N  hu  li  she  was  unfitted  to  meet, 
she  found  her  compensation  now  in  her  mi. 
and  could  not  express  her  gratitude  for  the 
recent,  thorough  training  she  had  received. 

Though  outwardly  their  life  was  just  as  bril- 
liant as  ever,  the  real  glamour  of  the  Orient 
was  gone. 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote :  "  Business  is  progress- 
ing most  stunningly.  Our  overland  trade  par- 
ticularly is  growing  at  a  tremendous  rate.  .  .  . 
The  office  does  not  wear  the  appearance  of  in- 
solvency, with  its  fifteen  or  twenty  clerks,  half 
a  dozen  messengers,  and  so  forth.  ...  I  am 
working  at  high  pressure  as  usual.  ...  I 
am  in  perfect  condition  for  anything.  I  do  not 
think  that  India  has  affected  my  general  health 
in  any  way." 

Less  than  a  month  after  their  arrival,  Mrs. 
Stearns  and  Ethel  went  to  Poona,  hoping  that 
the  cooler  climate  might  benefit  Mrs.  Stearns's 
eyes.  She  spent  the  summer,  and  until  the 
middle  of  October,  there.  Writing  to  Miss 
Eliza  Stearns  on  the  fifth  of  September,  she 
said :  "  For  nearly  three  months  I  have  been 
unable  to  read  or  write.  I  allow  myself  to  read 
[  204  ] 


LAST  YEAR  IN  INDIA 

a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  am  able  to  keep 
up  my  singing,  as  this  latter  requires  but  little 
use  of  my  eyes.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  a  se- 
rious trial  this  inability  to  use  my  eyes  has  been 
in  this  country.  I  had  no  other  resources  but 
those  which  demanded  my  sight,  no  cares  and 
employments  such  as  I  could  easily  have  found 
at  home,  which  should  employ  my  time  and 
thoughts  without  fatiguing  the  weak  member. 
I  could  not  go  out  during  the  day  on  account 
of  the  great  glare,  and  so  I  have  been  for  days 
shut  up  in  a  dark  room  with  no  one  to  speak 
to.  ...  I  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful 
that  I  took  singing  lessons  in  Paris,  as  without 
the  interest  I  took  in  my  practising  I  should 
have  been  almost  wholly  without  resource. 
Latterly  I  have  hit  upon  another  useful  way  of 
spending  my  time.  I  am  committing  to  memory 
hymns  and  La  Fontaine's  fables,  so  if  I  become 
blind,  I  shall  be  able  to  repeat  them  to  you  from 
morning  till  night.  .  .  .  Congestion  at  the  back 
of  the  eyes  was  caused  by  the  journey  down  the 
Red  Sea.  .  .  .  Nothing  is  the  matter  with  my 
sight." 

Such  loneliness  was  broken  in  upon  during 
September   by   Mr.   Stearns's   vacation.     He 
[  205  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

wrote  from  Poona,  on  the  fifth  of  September, 
1867:  "Everybody  is  here  who  can  possibly 
get  away  from  Bombay.  It  is  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  army,  and  Sir  Robert  Napier,  the 
Commander-in-Chief,  lives  next  door  to  us. 
Tin  military  world  is  greatly  excited  prepar- 
ing for  an  expedition  to  Abyssinia.  We  have 
just  been  looking  at  some  sketches  of  the  coun- 
try which  the  Governor  has  sent  us.  ... 
Colonel  Kirby  will  go  as  Adjutant-General; 
Mrs.  Kirby  will  stay  with  us." 

"  BOMBAY,  September  29. 

"  Ethel  is  strong,  hearty,  comely  and  fat.  .  .  . 
I  'm  afraid  papa  is  a  little  too  indulgent.  .  .  . 
Parents  can  never  appreciate  the  thorough  and 
complete  misery  of  Indian  life  rill  they  have 
been  separated  from  their  children.  Kmmie 
mourns  over  it  and  refuses  to  be  comforted. 
She  is  passionately  fond  of  her  boys." 

"October  12. 

"Many  thanks  for  the  pictures.  .  .  .  I  must 
say  you  all  look  grave  enough  to  be  in  your  last 
resting-place.  Mrs.  Dimick  looks  as  though 
she  were  arranging  for  the  biggest  funeral  of 

[206] 


LAST  YEAR  IN  INDIA 

the  year,  and  -  —  looks  as  though  he  was 
going  to  drive  the  hearse.  Sarah  looks  like 
head  corpse,  and  the  rest  of  you  like  hired 
mourners.  .  .  .  [As  to  Willie,]  I  never  saw 
such  a  child  —  he  always  looks  so  clean  and 
neat,  and  in  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  ever 
seems  to  be  the  right  boy  in  the  right  place. 
.  .  .  What  a  little  gentleman  he  is ! " 

"  October  29. 

"  Another  of  our  steamers  has  been  lost. 
The  Yamuna  in  the  Red  Sea.  [He  mentions 
nine  vessels  in  which  he  was  interested  having 
been  wrecked  since  he  began  business,  and 
alludes  to  "some  others."]  Business  still  won- 
derfully prospers,  .  .  .  and  we  have  more 
cotton  offering  than  we  can  carry  home,  and 
more  cargo  outward  than  we  can  possibly 
manage  to  bring." 

Mrs.  Stearns,  meanwhile,  had  gone  with 
Ethel  to  Matheran,  for  October  and  Novem- 
ber. She  wrote  to  Eliza  from  there  on  Novem- 
ber 12:  "The  doctors  feared  the  effect  on 
my  eyes,  and  so  I  had  to  come  here.  ...  I  am 
trying  a  little  plain  knitting,  but  this  occupa- 
tion is  so  wholly  unknown  in  this  country,  that 
[  207  ] 


M  \KKI1  I) 

I  annot  get  the  wool  except  in  skeins.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Chauntrell  is  reading  aloud  '  Lectures  on 
the  Science  of  Language'  by  Max  Miiller. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Chaumrtll  ami  Mrs.  Kirby  an 
be  with  us  in  Bombay,  [and  we]  are  going  to 
take  a  house." 

"  BOMBAY,  December  28. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  delightful  it  is  to  me  to 
have  constant  occupation  after  weary  months 
of  enforced  idleness.  I  trust  I  may  never  again 
be  condemned  to  do  nothing.  I  garden  a  great 
deal,  look  after  my  house  myself,  give  out  my 
own  stores  and  keep  all  the  accounts  of  our 
numerous  household,  which  is  no  small  task 
in  India.  .  .  .  Colonel  Kirby  is  Adjutant-Gen- 
eral here  instead  of  in  Abyssinia,  [so  we  are] 
a  united  and  happy  household.  .  .  .  1  sing  more 
than  ever." 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  his  father  from  Bom- 
bay, on  the  twenty-third  of  February,  1868, 
"Emmie's  eyes  are  bad,  and  cause  us  much 
anxiety  and  worry.  Don't  be  surprised  if  you 
hear  that  we  are  leaving  India  on  this  account. 
.  .  .  You  know  when  I  came  out  here,  I  came 
to  re-establish  my  business,  and  that  when  that 
was  under  way  it  was  my  intention  to  return 
[208] 


LAST  YEAR  IN  INDIA 

home.  I  have  been  blessed  beyond  my  most 
sanguine  expectations,  and  were  it  not  that 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  wipe  out  that  part 
of  the  old  score,  which  as  an  honest  man  I 
think  I  ought,  I  could  come  home  to-day  a  rich 
man.  .  .  .  We  have  now  the  reputation  of 
being  a 'very  strong  firm/  .  .  .  It  is  considered 
here  in  Bombay  that  my  good  fortune  is  follow- 
ing me  as  never  before.  .  .  .  Emmie's  health, 
a  united  family,  a  settled  home  and  a  dear  old 
father,  with  Emmie's  mother  and  father,  in  the 
one  scale,  and  you  can  imagine  how  great  a 
weight  must  go  into  the  other  to  outbalance 
this.  .  .  .  Were  it  not  for  this  one  drawback, 
and  that  everywhere  present  one,  of  a  divided 
family,  we  should  enjoy  ourselves  very  much. 
We  have  just  got  settled  in  a  new  house,  just 
furnished  it,  just  got  our  servants  into  shape, 
and  are  just  not  ready  to  leave.  So  with  my 
business;  humanly  speaking  it's  not  the  time  to 

go-" 

On  the  seventeenth  of  March  Mrs.  Stearns 

wrote,  "I  can  never  hope  to  be  cured  here.  .  .  . 
What  I  am  suffering  from  is  an  effect  of  this 
climate,  and  .  .  .  remaining  longer  here  may 
hinder  my  ever  being  cured.  Under  these 
[  209  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 
circumstances  there  seems  but  one  course  for 

The  decision  to  leave  was  made  at  once. 
He  wrote  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  March, 
"It  is  my  intention  to  go  ...  from  Port 
Said  to  Alexandria  .  .  .  thence  either  to 
Brindisi,  Naples  and  Rome,  or  to  Trieste, 
Vienna  'and  Berlin,  and  thence  to  Paris.  .  .  . 
I  want  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  but  it  is  desirable 
that  [Emmie]  should  get  out  of  the  glare  of 
the  East,  and  under  softer  skies  as  soon  as 
possible.  .  .  .  Business  prospers.  Wonderful, 
wonderful  the  success  with  which  our  labours 
have  been  crowned." 

After  a  week  at  Matheran  they  sailed  on 
the  Krishna,  on  the  twentieth  of  April,  for 
Suez. 

The  letters  on  their  home  journey  are  aggra- 
vatingly  few.  After  a  short  stay  in  Egypt, 
they  went  to  Brindisi,  thence  to  Bologna  and 
Florence,  from  which  place  Mr.  Stearns  wrote 
on  the  twenty-second  of  May,  1868,  "We  have 
done  nothing  for  the  last  forty-eight  hours  but 
gaze  at  and  exclaim  over  the  gorgeous  .  .  . 
scenery.  ...  I  have  jumped  up  about  a 
dozen  times  while  writing  this,  to  have  a  romp 
[  210  ] 


LAST  YEAR  IN  INDIA 

with  Ethel,  who  is  an  awfully  funny  little  mon- 
key, and  the  property  of  yours  affectionately, 
Will." 

After  several  days  in  Venice,  he  wrote  from 
Milan,  on  the  first  of  June,  1868,  "We  are 
going  over  the  Simplon,  and  have  engaged  a 
vetterino,  rather  than  a  diligence,  to  Geneva." 
Mrs.  Stearns  continued  from  the  Hotel  de 
1'Alma,  at  Paris  on  the  eighteenth  of  June, 
"I  began  to  gain  strength  in  crossing  the  Alps, 
and  have  been  constantly  improving,  until  now 
my  general  health  is  better  than  at  any  time 
since  I  left  England  for  Bombay,  more  than 
a  year  ago."  They  sailed  from  Liverpool  for 
America  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  July,  1868. 


X 

Orange 

WHEN  the  old  stage-coach  from  Northampton 
to  Amherst  was  nearing  College  Hall,  Mrs. 
Stearns,  glancing  out  of  the  window,  saw, 
under  the  great  sycamore  tree,  three  little  boys 
dressed  in  foreign  style,  waving  their  hands 
and  dancing  up  and  down.  She  turned  to  her 
husband  in  such  a  way,  that  he  exclaimed, 
"Oh,  Emmie!  what  is  the  matter  ?  Can't  I  do 
something  ? "  And  then  the  tears  poured  down 
her  face  and  she  sobbed  aloud,  "Oh,  1  think 
joy  can  kill  as  well  as  sorrow ! " 

Late  in  August  they  took  all  the  children, 
and  went  to  Mont  Vernon,  to  visit  Mrs.  Stearns's 
parents  for  the  rest  of  the  summer.  Some  one 
asked  whether  the  simplicity  of  that  little  vil- 
lage was  not  too  great  a  contrast  to  her  In- 
dian life  —  if  Mrs.  Stearns  did  not  feel  utterly 
sad  to  have  left  forever  the  beautiful  country 
where  she  had  had  the  broadest  cosmopolitan 
experience,  and  known  such  distinguished  men 
[212] 


ORANGE 

and  women  ?  Because  we  know  Mrs.  Stearns, 
because  we  know  what  it  meant  to  her  to  be 
with  her  family,  reunited,  what  the  hills  and 
sky  and  the  whole  beauty  of  nature  meant 
to  her,  we  are  assured  that  no  regret  tainted 
her  joy,  that  if  ever  in  her  life  she  was  happy, 
she  was  happy  now. 

Their  plans  were  much  unsettled.  Mr. 
Stearns,  on  account  of  business,  must  be  in 
New  York.  In  October  they  took  a  house  in 
Orange,  New  Jersey,  —  as  little  like  the  city 
as  any  place  they  could  find,  on  account  of 
the  children.  Although  they  moved  once  or 
twice,  it  was  always  within  the  township. 
The  house  they  liked  best,  and  in  which  most 
of  their  life  in  Orange  was  spent,  was  situated 
on  the  corner  of  Centre  Street  and  Harrison 
Avenue.  It  has  since  been  torn  down,  but  was 
described  as  "a  beautiful  home,  with  servants 
and  horses  and  carriages  in  abundance." 

Shortly  after  they  were  settled,  on  the  sixth 
of  November,  1868,  Annie  Kirby  Stearns  was 
born,  named  after  Mrs.  Kirby,  their  dear 
friend.  On  account  of  Mrs.  Stearns's  very 
poor  health  (for  her  eyes  did  not  seem  to  im- 
prove much  and  gave  her  constant  anxiety 


MARRIED  LIFE 

and  pain),  their  life  in  Orange  was  a  quiet  one. 
It  was  her  great  cause  for  thankfulness  that 
she  could  devote  her  entire  time  to  the  children. 
Mr.  Stearns  often  came  home  early  from  New 
York  to  play  with  them.  If  he  had  promised, 
he  never  failed. 

The  boys  were  put  in  school,  where  Willie, 
in  particular,  distinguished  himself  by  his  fine 
scholarship.  Mr.  Stearns  once  said  to  his  father 
in  regard  to  him,  "I  hope  you  will  live  long 
enough  to  see  Willie  safely  through  college,  for 
I  imagine  if  he  lives  and  you  live,  you  will  have 
more  comfort  in  his  scholarly  abilities  than  you 
have  had  in  your  own  immediate  flock." 

The  younger  children  were  taught  by  Mrs. 
Stearns  herself.  She  gave  them  lessons  in 
botany,  reading,  writing,  drawing,  and  par- 
ticularly reading  music.  She  cut  out  their 
little  clothes  too,  which  were  made  by  the 
seamstress  always  at  hand.  The  children  ate 
upstairs.  The  only  meal  which  they  were  al- 
lowed to  have  with  their  father  and  mother  was 
Sunday  night  supper.  It  had  been  the  same 
when  the  boys  were  left  at  President  Stearns's. 
They  came  to  prayers  in  the  morning,  as  well 
as  all  the  servants. 


ORANGE 

In  January,  1869,  Mr.  Stearns  left  Mrs. 
Stearns  with  the  children  and  went  back, 
for  the  last  time,  to  India,  for  business  pur- 
poses. He  remained  only  three  months  away. 
A  letter  written  to  Mrs.  Stearns  on  the  return 
voyage,  from  Suez,  says  among  other  things, 
"My  coming  on  has  been  of  great  service,  .  .  . 
and  though  our  separation  has  been  necessarily 
prolonged,  I  trust  and  believe  that  its  results  will 
be  beneficial.  I  can  only  say  don't  get  used  to 
my  absence,  dont,  I  pray  you  with  all  my  heart, 
.  .  .  don't  get  used  to  my  being  away.  God 
knows  how  deeply  I  feel  this  new  separation. 
God  knows  how  willingly  I  have  sacrificed 
(if  I  may  use  the  word)  a  present  certainty, 
.  .  .  for  an  unknown  future,  because  I  love 
you  and  the  dear  ones  God  has  given  us,  better 
than  all  worldly  prospects,  or  realities  of  fame 
and  fortune.  .  .  .  On  Monday  morning  I  left 
Cairo  for  Ismai'lia  with  an  American  gentleman 
of  whom  I  have  before  written  you.  .  .  .  We 
arrived  at  Ismai'lia  at  3 : 30  P.  M.,  stayed  there 
over  night,  and  in  the  morning  left  for  Port 
Sai'd  by  a  special  steamer  which  the  Isthmus 
people  placed  at  my  disposal ;  stayed  at  Port 
Sai'd  over  night,  was  up  at  5:30  A.  M.,  visited 


MARRIH>  I.n  i 

the  works,  and  left  again  at  8  A.  M.  for  Ismaflia, 
arriving  in  season  to  catch  the  train  for  Suez 
where  we  arrived  at  7 130  P.  M.  night  before  last. 

"  Yesterday  I  went  to  Chaloof,  and  returned 
by  donkey  about  5  P.  M.,  visiting  the  Suez 
docks  after  my  return.  The  trip  was  in  every 
respect  a  most  enjoyable  one.  .  .  . 

"Well,  on  arrival  here,  we  found  the  Neera 
not  yet  in,  and  have,  as  a  consequence,  been 
hanging  about  here  for  two  days.  .  .  .  Mean- 
while the  Calcutta  boat  has  come  in  with  two 
hundred  and  fifty  passengers,  the  usual  Indian 
crowd,  Europeans,  ayahs,  native  servants, 
washed-out  babies,  etc.  They  are  all  going  on 
to-night  to  Alexandria.  .  .  .  The  hotel  swarms 
with  them.  When  the  Bombay  mail  and  the 
Nffra  both  get  in,  if  before  these  people  leave, 
you  can  imagine  the  confusion." 

"It  is  hard,"  he  said,  "very  hard  to  be 
obliged  to  abandon  so  valuable  and  interesting 
a  business,  just  as  I  am  in  a  position  to  reap 
the  fruits  of  twelve  years  of  hard  work,  em- 
bracing no  less  than  thirty-eight  voyages  by 
sea!"  He  reached  New  York  in  April,  1869. 

Early  in  1870,  Mrs.  Stearns's  father  died. 
In  mid-summer,  1870,  Mr.  Stearns  got  news 
[216] 


ORANGE 

of  the  depression  in  Bombay,  caused  by  the 
Franco-Prussian  war.  Of  what  happened  in 
the  firm  of  Stearns,  Hobart  and  Company, 
his  own  description,  written  to  his  father,  gives 
the  clearest  idea. 

"LIVERPOOL,  July  29,  1870. 

"Maneckjee  Kaka,  a  very  old  friend  and 
constituent  of  ours,  and  my  old  Hindu  friend 
Karsandass  Madavadass,  the  one  I  was  so 
fond  of,  got  advances  from  the  firm  against 
consignments  of  cotton  to  Liverpool.  Against 
these  consignments  they  handed  us  the  bills  of 
lading,  duly  signed  by  the  captain  of  the  ship. 
It  now  appears  that  the  goods  were  never 
shipped;  that  they  had  induced  the  captain 
in  some  way  to  sign  for  what  he  never  had,  and 
we  are  swindled. 

"When  the  affair  was  found  out,  Maneckjee 
swallowed  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  laudanum, 
and  died  in  two  hours,  and  Karsandass  tried 
to  hang  himself,  but  was  prevented.  He  was 
arrested  and  will  probably  pass  the  remainder 
of  his  days  in  the  Andaman  Islands.  The  cap- 
tain was  also  arrested.  One  of  our  Parsee 
clerks  has  been  mixed  up  with  the  affair  to 


MARRIED  LIFE 

this  i-xtrnt  that  he  appears  to  have  been  cither 
a  tool  in  their  hands,  or  wilfully  negligent  of 
our  interests.  We  must  lose  very  li<  .md 

I  don't  see  that  there  will  be  much  K  ft  when 
all  is  finished.  No  one  is  to  blame.  ...  I 
shall  have  to  buckle  to  it  again.  However, 
that's  fun.  ...  1  am  going  to  see  what  sort 
of  an  American  merchant  I  cun  make  now. 
...  I  don't  see  how  those  people  get  on  when 
adversity  comes,  who  can't  trust  God.  Oh, 
yes  I  can,  they  take  laudanum  like  poor  Ma- 
neckjee,  ashamed  to  face  their  fellow  men, 
but  not  their  God!" 

This  is  what  Mrs.  Stearns  called  the  "sec- 
ond failure,"  -  though  it  did  not  ultimately 
lead  to  a  failure.  Mr.  Stearns  never  quite  ral- 
lied, however.  He  wrote  her, "  Sometimes  I  find 
myself  wondering  how  I  could  by  any  chance 
be  able  to  exist  without  your  wise  care  and 
counsel,  and  the  thought  of  such  a  contin- 
gency makes  me  tremble.  ...  If  human  wis- 
dom could  guide  in  these  matters,  it  would 
seem  to  be  a  thousandfold  better  that  I  should 
go  first.  Though  obliged  sometimes  to  differ, 
our  differences  have  never  assumed  the  pro- 


ORANGE 

portions  of  serious  misunderstandings,  or  have 
approached  the  shadow  of  a  quarrel.  I  am  less 
and  less  able  to  stand  alone.  In  you  only  I 
find  the  true  care,  consolation  and  wisdom 
necessary  for  me  to  play  the  man. 

"I  might  perhaps  have  married  a  beauty, 
though  to  me  you  are  as  beautiful  as  the  best, 
and  have  had  a  thorn  in  my  side  all  my  life, 
and  a  thorn  in  my  soul  for  the  next.  I  might 
have  married  for  money,  and  ruined  myself  and 
my  children.  I  might  even  have  had  a  sickly, 
sentimental,  namby-pamby  girl,  who  could 
only  kiss  and  hang  like  a  dead  weight  upon  me 
forever.  All  this  and  much  more!  But  God 
in  His  great  love  guided  me  to  a  better  choice, 
and  my  heart  warms  with  gratitude  when  I 
think  of  what  He  did.  ...  I  don't  know  what 
the  good  Lord  means,  or  what  He  has  in  store 
for  me ;  He  does  see  fit  to  tumble  me  over  now 
and  then  in  the  most  unexpected  manner.  At 
the  same  time,  I  find  it  quite  impossible  to  be 
down-hearted,  and  feel  perfectly  certain  that 
the  future  is  full  of  blessings  for  me.  .  .  .  Mrs. 
-  allows  all  her  children  to  breakfast  with 
them,  and  talk  at  the  table ! " 

He  arrived  from  Liverpool  in  August,  just 
I  219  ] 


MARRIED  In  i 

in  time  to  go  with  Mrs.  Stearns  to  her  mother's 
funeral.  Mrs.  Kittredge  died  in  Mont  Vernon 
on  the  twenty-eighth  of  August,  1870. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  September,  1870, 
the  corner  stone  of  the  Amherst  College  chu 
was  laid,  —  a  gift  which  Mr.  Stearns  had 
made  to  the  college  in  1864.  [At  the  time  of  his 
failure,  the  Trustees  of  Amherst  College  had 
offered  to  return  the  money.  He  refused  it.] 
He  wrote  to  President  Stearns  from  New  York 
on  the  nineteenth  of  September.  "You  may 
say  that  it  was,  or  is,  the  donor's  wish  that  it 
should  be  a  memorial  church,  if  you  like.  No 
prouder  monument  can  be,  or  has  been,  reared 
to  the  memory  of  our  brave  fallen  ones.  It 
would  be  well,  too,  to  say  that  the  gift  was 
made  over  six  years  ago,  and  that  the  idea  in 
all  our  minds  was  to  allow  the  sum  to  remain 
at  interest  until  the  changes  consequent  upon 
the  close  of  the  war  in  the  cost  of  building,  etc., 
should  enable  you  to  build  to  better  advantage, 
etc.  And  you  may  say  further  that  the  leading 
idea  when  a  church  is  built  in  memory  of  ... 
the  dear  ones  fallen  by  our  side,  is  that  such  a 
building  should  never  be  desecrated  by  the 
hurrahs  of  the  students  at  commencement." 
[  220  ] 


ORANGE 

And  again,  "How  can  we  use  money  to  better 
advantage  than  by  purifying,  ennobling,  en- 
lightening and  strengthening  the  higher  Chris- 
tian sentiments  and  feelings  of  those  who  will 
assist  so  materially  in  shaping  and  fixing  the 
Christian  life  of  the  coming  generations  ?  In 
this  land  of  the  practical,  there  is  danger  of 
death  to  the  sentiment  of  religion.  With  the 
death  of  sentiment  goes  veneration,  sacred  as- 
sociation and  feeling,  respect  and  those  kindred 
virtues,  the  tenor  of  whose  existence  is  even 
now  so  weak.  .  .  . 

"If  the  good  Lord  chooses  to  increase  the 
responsibilities  of  my  stewardship,  I  shall  hope 
to  do  more  and  better  than  I  have  thus  far 
done."  Later.  "While  I  shall  lose  heavily  in 
Bombay,  the  horse  railway  is  fast  taking  a  sat- 
isfactory and  profitable  shape.  I  have  full  faith 
that  all  that  is  necessary  for  me  will  be  given." 

"NEW  YORK,  January  10,  1871. 
"  Both  Emmie  and  Ethel  are  unwell,  suffer- 
ing with  bronchitis;  the  former  so  much  that  I 
think  of  taking  a  trip  south.  I  don't  see  how  I 
can  spare  the  time,  but  it  must  be  done  if  she 
does  not  soon  recover.  ...  I  was  yesterday 
[  221  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

elected  Treasurer  of  the  American  and  Kast 
Iiulia  Telegraph  Company,  a  position  of  some 
honour  and  perhaps  value,  if  a  bill  now  before 
Congress,  asking  for  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
laying  cables  between  China  and  our  western 
coast,  is  passed." 

44  BRUNSWICK,  GEORGIA,  March  4,  1871. 
"Since  writing  you  we  have  been  to  Fernan- 
dina,  Jacksonville,  St.  Augustine  and  back." 

They  visited  Atlanta,  went  to  Lookout  Moun- 
tain to  see  the  Bancrofts  (Mrs.  Bancroft  was 
Mrs.  Stearns's  sister,  Fannie),  and  in  April 
had  returned  to  Orange. 

On  the  sixth  of  June,  1871,  Alfred  Ernest 
Stearns  was  born  in  Orange.  In  September 
they  were  already  in  England,  a  trip  they  had 
taken  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Stearns's  health. 
It  is  interesting  to  know  that  one  of  the  passen- 
gers on  the  voyage,  who  was  especially  con- 
vulsed by  Mr.  Stearns's  funny  stories,  "none 
of  which,"  he  said,  could  he  "afford  to  forget," 
was  Andrew  Carnegie. 

In  regard  to  Mrs.  Stearns,  her  husband 
wrote  his  father  from  London,  on  the  eighth  of 
[  222  ] 


ORANGE 

September,  1871.  "You  will  note  that  she  writes 
in  good  health  and  spirits.  She  has  been  greatly 
benefited  by  the  trip  to  France.  .  .  .  Emmie 
was  a  very  sick  woman  during  the  winter,  and 
I  at  one  time  feared  she  would  never  recover. 
Thanks  be  to  God,  she  is  all  right  now!  All 
my  business  plans  have  succeeded,  and  we  are 
going  to  take  hold  of  the  new  steamship  enter- 
prise with  vigour  [that  of  establishing  direct 
steam  communication  between  the  south  and 
England].  I  expect  to  have  a  year  of  very  hard 
work,  this  coming  year,  but  if  I  can,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  end  it  as  successfully  as  itopens 
promisingly,  I  shall  be  more  than  satisfied." 

In  October  they  returned  again  to  New 
York.  He  wrote  on  the  twenty-third  of  March, 
1872,  "All  the  children  are  well  and  thriving 
in  spite  of  the  cold,  wet  and  gloom.  Emmie 
has  not  been  very  well  for  a  day  or  two,  though 
she  is  better  to-day.  ...  So  far  as  family 
matters  are  concerned,  I  have  less  cause  for 
worry  than  my  father  had." 

Among  a  score  of  different  business  inter- 
ests, his  pet  enterprise  at  this  time  seemed  to 
be  a  super-heated  air  engine,  which  was  pro- 
nounced excellent  by  experts.  He  put  a  great 
[  223  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

deal  of  money  inm  it  He  was  as  enthusiastic 
in  its  praise  as  its  inventor,  perhaps  as  confi- 
dent of  its  worth  and  future  success, — one 
occasion  when  his  optimism  played  false.  Yet 
his  mind  had  been  taxed  to  its  utmost,  and 
he  had,  from  time  to  time,  fearful  and  blind- 
ing headaches.  Though  they  inconvenienced 
him  very  much  at  the  time,  he  did  not  give 
them  a  second  thought.  He  had  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  considering  his  body. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  December,  1872, 
Mabel  Kittredge  Stearns  was  born  in  Orange. 

The  year  of  1873  passed  without  incident, 
till  Mr.  Stearns  again  visited  England  during 
November  and  December,  returning  to  New 
York  in  January,  1874.  It  was  during  this 
absence  that  Mrs.  Stearns,  in  spite  of  exceed- 
ingly poor  health,  raised  a  large  sum  of  money 
in  Orange  for  a  needy  hospital. 

Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  his  father  from  New 
York  on  the  seventh  of  February,  1874,  — 

"I  have  had  about  as  much  on  my  shoul- 
ders for  the  past  six  months  as  they  could 
bear,  and  my  bones  have  creaked  and  groaned 
under  the  burden  till  I  thought  I  could  go  no 
further.  ...  I  felt  quite  seedy  last  summer. 
[  224  ] 


ORANGE 

...  I  lost  twenty  pounds.  .  .  .  But  I'm 
all  right  now.  .  .  .  The  engine  will  be  a 
success." 

"  April  28,  1874. 

"My  engine  is  perfected.  ...  It  will  all 
come  out  right  by  and  by.  I  am  asking  Him  if 
He  sees  fit  to  send  me  relief.  Love  to  all. 
Ever  affectionately,  your  eldest  son.  May  he 
never  disgrace  you ! " 

"NEW  YORK,  May  6,  1874. 

"Emmie's  eyes  are  very  bad.  .  .  .  The  first 
horse  railway  in  Bombay  opens  to-morrow. 
.  .  .  My  engine  is  for  marine  purposes." 

His  projects  were  nearing  a  successful  real- 
ization. He  saw  only  the  silver  lining  of  the 
clouds,  as  usual.  But  his  overworked  brain 
was  giving  way  under  the  fearful  strain  he  had 
persisted  in  putting  upon  it.  The  headaches 
were  more  frequent  and  less  endurable.  He 
was  losing  hold. 


XI 

Death  of  Mr.  Stearns 

ON  the  night  of  the  twentieth  of  May,  1874, 
Mrs.  Stearns  had  a  curious  dream.  She  saw 
IK  rself  standing,  with  bridal  veil  and  orange 
blossoms,  beside  her  husband.  Then  that  vis- 
ion vanished,  and  she  saw  herself  standing, 
the  bridal  veil  and  orange  blossoms  torn  off,  - 
alone.  She  spoke  of  it  to  her  husband ;  he  only 
laughed  and  said  he  had  never  felt  better.  "  In 
fact,"  he  added,  "you  need  n't  worry  about 
my  head  any  more.  It's  all  right." 

In  the  morning,  however,  his  head  was  pain- 
ing him  so  badly,  that  Mrs.  Stearns  went  into 
New  York  with  him,  taking  Andy,  their  col- 
oured butler.  The  details  of  the  visit  to  their 
physician  are  peculiarly  distressing  —  how 
alarmed  he  was  over  Mr.  Stearns's  condition, 
how  he  administered  a  dose  of  morphine  to 
relieve  the  agony,  and  then  how  he  could  not 
accompany  them  to  a  hotel,  because  his  own 
wife  was  at  the  moment  fatally  ill,  and  he  him- 
[226] 


DEATH  OF  MR.  STEARNS 

self  almost  distracted ;  how  Mrs.  Stearns  went 
from  one  hotel  to  another,  none  of  them  willing 
to  take  in  a  dying  man,  as  they  supposed  Mr. 
Stearns  to  be. 

There  were  no  telephones  then,  so  she  tele- 
graphed down  town  for  Mr.  William  Kittredge, 
her  cousin  and  Mr.  Stearns's  business  asso- 
ciate at  that  time.  He  came  at  once  and  took 
them  to  the  old  Sturtevant  House  on  the  corner 
of  Twenty-ninth  Street  and  Broadway. 

When  they  had  been  given  a  room,  and  an- 
other physician  summoned,  Mr.  Stearns  was 
already  unconscious.  His  wife  sat  by  the  bed- 
side gazing  at  him  and  repeating  over  and  over 
again  -  "  It  is  not  possible !  He  cannot  be 
dead !  ...  It  is  not  possible ! "  The  physi- 
cian came,  and  saw  at  once  that  life  was  ex- 
tinct. It  was  high  noon. 

Owing  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his 
death,  Mr.  Kittredge  feared  a  post  mortem 
examination  would  be  necessary.  He  dreaded 
the  effect  upon  Mrs.  Stearns.  While  he  was 
considering  how  best  to  tell  her,  she  said 
calmly,  "William,  there  should  be  a  post 
mortem" 

They  took  Mr.  Stearns's  body  to  a  hospital, 
[  227  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

where  the  examination  was  made.  The  cause 
of  his  death  was  pronounced  the  bursting  of  a 
blood-vessel  in  the  brain.  The  physician  added 
that  he  had  never  seen  so  perfect  a  human 
body  in  all  his  experience,  lungs,  heart  and 
every  other  organ  in  ideal  health. 

That  night  Bella,  one  of  the  maids,  came 
into  the  nursery  and  said  to  the  children,  in 
an  awe-struck  whisper,  "Mrs.  Stearns  has 
come  back  alone !  He  must  be  dead ! " 

They  all  went  to  bed  as  usual,  and  though 
they  had  heard  nothing,  something  singular 
seemed  to  oppress  them. 

In  the  morning  Mrs.  Stearns  called  the  chil- 
dren and  servants  together,  and  told  them  that 
Mr.  Stearns  was  gone. 

The  funeral  was  held  in  Orange.  The  pas- 
tor gave  a  eulogy  of  Mr.  Stearns's  character, 
and  expatiated  on  how  much  he  would  be 
missed  in  the  church. 

A  commemorative  address  was  delivered  to 
the  students  of  Amherst  College  by  Professor 
William  S.  Tyler,  shortly  after  Mr.  Stearns's 
death,  "  because,"  to  quote  Professor  Tyler,  "  a 
life  so  pure  and  noble,  not  to  say  so  romantic 
and  heroic  as  his,  has  a  lesson  which  it  is  at 

[228] 


DEATH  OF  MR.  STEARNS 

once  our  duty  and  our  privilege  to  learn.  .  .  . 
An  erect,  manly,  noble  form,  a  command- 
ing brow  and  expressive  features;  perfect 
health  of  body,  mind  and  heart  ...  in  short, 
the  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano.  Irrepressible 
activity  which  could  not  be  confined  to  study, 
but  must  work;  indomitable  pluck  which  no 
dangers  could  daunt  and  no  difficulties  could 
discourage;  constitutional  courage,  that  shrank 
from  no  perils,  tempered  and  intensified  by 
moral  courage  that  feared  nothing  but  sin; 
cheerfulness,  hopefulness,  joyfulness  even  un- 
der disappointment  and  disaster,  and  almost 
independent  of  outward  circumstances;  honour 
and  integrity  in  all  his  dealings,  and  especially 
in  business  transactions;  patriotism  and  public 
spirit,  with  a  cheerful  devotion  not  only  of  per- 
sonal property,  but  of  time  and  service  to  the 
general  good;  faith  in  God,  .  .  .  Christian 
principles  and  a  Christian  spirit,  lifting  him 
above  the  fear  or  the  power  of  men,  and  lead- 
ing him  to  do  to  others  as  he  would  have 
others  do  to  him  .  .  .  controlled  him." 

He  was  "the  strenuous  advocate  of  Chris- 
tianity among  the  Parsees  and  Brahmins,  the 
wealthy  and  cultivated  classes." 
[  229  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

"The  wide  knowledge  of  the  world,  the 
various  stores  of  experience  and  observation 
ulmh  he  had  acquired  by  ex'  ign 

travel  and  by  diligent  reading  and  study,  gave 
breadth  and  versatility  to  a  life  of  \\liuh  the 
greatest  charm  was  its  pure  and  lofty  morality. 
It  is  not  often  that  we  find  such  graceful  sym- 
metry of  character.  .  .  .  An  overworked  and 
diseased  brain  was  the  cause  of  his  death. 
.  .  .  Moral  and  Christian  character  was  Mr. 
Stearns's  .  .  .  stock  in  trade,  the  element  of 
his  power,  the  secret  of  his  success,  his  chief 
means  of  usefulness,  his  unfailing  source  of 
happiness." 

In  reference  to  him  the  Springfield  Rt publi- 
can said, — 

"The  following  extracts  from  a  private  let- 
ter from  Mr.  Richard  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  of  Boston, 
to  the  editor  of  the  Republican,  give  interesting 
reminiscences  of,  and  bear  distinguished  but 
just  honour  to,  the  late  William  F.  Stearns,  .  .  . 
whose  character  and  life  deserve  to  be  much 
better  known  to  the  young  men  of  America 
than,  from  the  distant  arena  of  his  action,  and 
his  now  early  death,  they  are  likely  to  be:- 

.  .  .  "  *  I  can  scarcely  credit  that  he  was  only 

[230) 


DEATH  OF  MR.  STEARNS 

thirty-nine  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Fourteen 
years  ago  I  visited  him  in  Bombay,  and  he  was 
then  the  head  of  the  principal  American  house 
there,  with  large  business  and  the  best  of  credit 
among  the  Parsee  bankers  and  English  mer- 
chants. And  he  had  founded  the  house  himself, 
not  gone  into  business  established  by  others, 
yet  he  was  then  only  twenty-five.  ...  I  had 
met  with  an  accident  in  a  gale  in  the  Indian 
Ocean,  .  .  .  and  went  ashore  to  a  native 
hotel,  where  I  had  a  dull  time  of  it  for  one  day, 
when  a  handsome  young  man  was  announced, 
who  claimed,  as  he  politely  said,  a  right  to 
take  me  to  his  house  as  a  guest,  as  his  father 
and  mine  had  been  friends,  and  he  was  a  Cam- 
bridge boy  by  birth,  though  personally  we 
were  strangers.  About  three  weeks  I  was  his 
guest,  at  his  delightful  residence  on  Malabar 
Hill,  and  he  and  his  charming  and  cultivated 
wife  made  it  as  happy  and  interesting  a  visit 
as  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  .  .  .  I  left  him  and 
his  wife  with  a  rare  feeling  of  respect,  affection 
and  gratitude. 

"  *  Before  thirty,  he  had  been  a  large  bene- 
factor of  his  father's  college,  as  to  other  great 
objects  of  public  interest.    During  our  Civil 
[  231  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

War,  he  was  the  truest  of  the  true.  I  had  the 
t'.u  tion  of  offering  his  gratuitous  services 
to  Mr.  Fessenden,  then  Secretary  of  the  Trea- 
sury, to  place  our  bonds  and  loans  among  the 
money  lenders  of  the  East;  and,  dearly  as  he 
loved  his  gallant  brother,  he  felt  that  his  life 
was  a  sacrifice  they  almost  cheerfully  made 
for  such  a  cause.  He  was  truly  a  noble-minded 
man,  full  of  enthusiasm,  generous  impulse, 
energy,  enterprise  and  loving-kindness.  Per- 
sonally, I  am  under  great  obligations  to  him, 
and  wish  there  may  be  something  in  which  I 
may  join,  which  shall  publicly  testify  to  his 
worth/" 

After  settling  Mr.  Stearns's  estate,  it  was 
found  that  there  was  practically  nothing  left. 
A  £10,000  life  insurance  policy  had  lapsed 
during  the  year  before  his  death,  because, 
his  brain  being  already  overstrained,  he  had 
forgotten  to  pay  the  last  instalment.  Mrs. 
Stearns  had  $5000  from  another  policy,  how- 
ever —  and  that  was  all.  She  wrote  to  President 
Stearns  on  the  third  of  June,  1874,— 

"Two  plans  are  open  to  me  —  one,  to  sell 
at  once  horses  and  carriages,  which  belong  to 
me,  and  what  furniture  I  do  not  require,  re- 
[  232  1 


DEATH  OF  MR.  STEARNS 

moving  the  remainder  to  Amherst.  [Her  jewels 
she  afterward  sold  to  a  well-known  Boston 
man  of  wealth.]  The  other,  to  let  the  house 
for  the  summer.  The  latter  plan  would  give 
me  more  time  to  consider  what  was  really  best 
for  the  future.  My  heart  prompts  me  to  decide 
at  once  that  Amherst  shall  be  my  home,  but 
everything  is  so  indefinite  now  it  might  be  bet- 
ter for  me  to  make  no  definite  plan  for  the 
present  ...  I  will  ask  Eliza  to  make  some 
inquiries  for  me  regarding  houses  in  Amherst, 
as  I  know  you  must  be  overwhelmed  with  care, 
and  I  do  not  like  to  add  unnecessarily  to  your 
burdens,  already  so  great. 

"I  cannot  write  you  of  that  with  which  my 
heart  is  so  full.  I  am  so  stunned  and  so  be- 
wildered that  I  cannot  analyze  my  own  feel- 
ings. I  am  much  comforted  in  the  knowledge 
that  you  are  so  wonderfully  sustained,  and  am 
encouraged  to  trust  that  the  same  kind  Father 
will  give  me  strength  to  bear  a  burden  which  at 
times  seems  insupportable." 

The  children,  at  any  rate,  ought  to  go  to 
President  Stearns  and  his  wife,  known  in  Am- 
herst still  as  "dear  Madame  Stearns."    Miss 
Minnie    Kittredge,    Mrs.    Stearns's    younger 
[  233  ] 


MARRIED  LIFE 

sister,  came  to  Orange,  and  took  the  five  oldest 
children  and  Andy,  the  coloured  butler,  to 
Amherst,  a  sad  little  train,  all  dressed  in  deep- 
est mourning.  As  soon  as  she  could  settle  her 
affairs,  Mrs.  Stearns  followed,  bringing  the 
two  babies  with  her. 

The  worst,  indeed,  had  come  to  pass.  Her 
seven  fatherless  children  —  Willie,  the  eldest, 
was  fourteen,  three  days  before  his  father's 
death  —  were  dependent  on  her  alone.  Her 
own  parents  were  dead ;  her  money  was  gone. 

She  was  so  calm  that  it  was  feared  she  would 
lose  her  mind.  Was  not  this  superhuman  hero- 
ism the  pause  before  a  complete  break  ?  She 
had  had  no  interests  apart  from  his.  She  had 
rested  with  such  peace  on  his  buoyant  nature! 
She  had  relied  so  entirely  on  his  joyousnessi 
Surely  she  could  not  live  without  him! 

Suddenly  those  traits  for  which  she  had  relied 
upon  him  became  characteristic  of  her.  No  one 
was  saddened  by  her  grief.  Instead,  she  radi- 
ated strength  and  peace.  Her  friends  looked 
upon  her  with  awe. 


[234] 


INTERLUDE 


Interlude 

To  a  casual  observer,  Mrs.  Stearns's  life  would 
seem  to  consist  of  two  parts,  utterly  distinct. 
The  first  was  a  life  of  events,  of  promise.  The 
second,  one  in  which  the  few  happenings  were 
grim  finalities.  To  such  an  observer  it  would 
seem  that  her  eyes  had  been  opened  to  the  out- 
side world,  and  when  she  had  seen  the  won- 
ders it  contains,  then  to  the  world  within,  —  to 
its  utmost  possibilities.  Had  not  her  circum- 
stances shown  her  the  glories  of  the  earth,  so 
that  she  might  appreciate  fully  all  she  had  lost  ? 
Could  experiences  so  different  be  contained 
within  a  single  life  ?  Mrs.  Stearns,  the  grande 
dame  of  Indian  society,  could  she  have  been 
recognized  now  ?  Her  children  only  would 
seem  to  connect  these  two  lives,  and  to  them 
the  demands  of  the  second  became  far  more 
engrossing  than  memories  of  the  first. 

How  little  an  onlooker  understands!  How 
little  outward  circumstances  modified  the  real 
woman ! 

There  was  no  need  of  a  transformation  in 

[  237  ] 


INTERLUDE 

Mrs.  Stearns  to  suit  her  for  a  different  environ- 
ment. Those  essential,  noble  traits  which  had 
characterized  her  in  wealth,  remained,  strength- 
ened, during  the  lack  of  it.  Her  conditions 
changed ;  they  were  found,  after  all,  to  be  ex- 
ternal. Her  self  remained  the  same.  As  it 
had  not  been  exalted  before,  it  was  not  over- 
whelmed now. 

A  person  does  not  grow  strong  all  at  once. 
He  cannot  tell  beforehand  what  he  may  have 
to  do.  He  cannot  prepare  for  anything  in  par- 
ticular except  by  being  ready  for  everything 
in  general.  Self-discipline,  during  long  years 
of  luxury,  had  given  Mrs.  Stearns  resources 
equal  to  any  demand  that  might  be  made  upon 
them. 

She  had  been  schooling  herself  not  only  in- 
tellectually. Acquaintance  with  sickness,  death 
and  failure  had  already  revealed  her  power  to 
such  an  extent  that  Mr.  Stearns  himself  had 
exclaimed,  "  Emmie,  I  did  n't  know  you  cap- 
able of  it!" 

The  same  confidence  which  she  had  felt  be- 
fore was  not  to  falter  now.  Instead,  further  ca- 
lamities would  nerve  her  on  to  be  even  stronger 
still. 

[238] 


INTERLUDE 

People  questioned  what  the  inner  resources 
could  be  which  so  sustained  her.  To  be  sure, 
she  had  still  a  few  Indian  treasures,  carvings, 
paintings  and  rugs.  Did  she  not,  perhaps, 
bring  with  them  memories  of  things  so  beauti- 
ful that  it  would  be  desecration  to  regret  them  ? 
Her  Indian  life  had  given  her  a  mind  full 
of  images  of  which  the  most  ordinary  things 
in  every-day  life  were  constantly  suggestive. 
She  did  not  sigh,  because  an  Amherst  sunset 
recalled  Matheran,  "How  different  my  sur- 
roundings are  now!"  She  thought  instead, 
"What  a  picture  this  brings  to  my  mind! 
How  great  my  happiness  to  contemplate  so 
beautiful  a  scene!  And  this  is  just  an  every- 
day experience,  so  common  to  us  all  that  hardly 
any  one  turns  to  look  at  it ! " 

As  with  the  sunset,  every  event  must  have 
had  its  Indian  parallel,  and  with  that  asso- 
ciation, must  have  gained  deeper  significance. 
Her  memory  was  as  dear  as  the  event  itself  in 
passing.  It  could  never  become  bitter.  It  made 
all  the  sweeter  a  like  experience  which  recalled 
the  first.  Sorrow  brought  her  closer  to  all  that 
was  vital  in  her  past  life. 

Breadth  of  vision  she  had  gained  from  her 
0239] 


INTERLUDE 

wide  experience.  For  her  there  was  no  struggle 
between  a  world-outlook  and  a  village  point  of 
view.  High  motives  and  sincere  conduct  are 
understood  everywhere;  so  are  devotion  to 
duty  and  joyous  sacrifice.  Such  things  had 
absorbed  her  life  in  the  great  world,  and  were 
equally  to  absorb  it  in  a  small  town.  She  dealt 
with  the  circumscribed,  while  seeing  always 
the  unlimited. 

External  resources,  too,  she  had  at  her  com- 
mand. She  found  the  value  of  a  single,  com- 
pelling purpose  in  eliminating  non-essentials. 
There  is  something  stimulating  about  seeing 
what  you  can  do  with  the  inevitable!  The 
inevitable  was  a  joyous  privilege  to  her.  Pri- 
vations were  her  opportunities.  She  found  that 
one  need  not  be  confronted  by  obstacles  if 
one  steps  from  crest  to  crest. 

In  her  own  little  diary  she  copied  the  follow- 
ing quotation.  "The  longer  I  live,  the  more 
certain  I  am  that  the  great  difference  between 
men,  the  feeble  and  the  powerful,  the  great 
and  the  insignificant,  is  energy  and  invincible 
determination  —  a  purpose  once  fixed,  and 
then  death  or  victory.  That  quality  will  do 
anything  that  can  be  done  in  this  world;  and 
[  240  ] 


INTERLUDE 

no  talents,  no  circumstances,  no  opportunities 
will  make  a  two-legged  creature  a  man  without 
it." 

Sorrow  in  Mrs.  Stearns  could  not  be  weak- 
ness. It  must  be  strength.  She  must  turn 
affliction  to  good.  For  her  children's  sakes  she 
would  make  her  life  a  success. 

Yet  after  all,  this  dissection  does  not  reveal 
her  real  sources  of  power.  I  have  not  explained 
why  trial  exalted  her.  Her  strength  seemed 
superhuman.  Was  it  not  indeed  so  ?  For  her 
religion  interpreted  everything — human  suf- 
fering as  well  as  the  beauty  of  the  universe. 

The  life  of  Mrs.  Stearns  was  not  finished. 
How  much  was  reserved  for  her  to  do!  In- 
stead of  being  crushed  so  that  two  lives  instead 
of  one  had  ceased  at  her  husband's  death,  the 
life  of  the  Mrs.  Stearns  we  knew  was  only  just 
beginning, — what  might  be  called  her  life- 
work  not  even  yet  begun. 


PART  II 

Life  Alone 


I 

Beginning  of  Life  in  Amherst 

THERE  is  a  little  diary  in  which  Mrs.  Stearns 
made  a  few  entries  during  these  first  lonely 
years.  Some  quotations  follow. 

"Sunday,  May  23,  1875. 

"Two  days  since  I  entered  upon  my  second 
year  of  widowhood,  —  two  days  since  we  car- 
ried our  first  spring  offering  of  flowers  to  dear 
Will's  grave,  and  kept  the  first  anniversary  of 
his  entrance  into  rest.  Sometimes  when  I  think 
of  the  crushing  disappointments  which  one 
after  another  overtook  him,  .  .  .  the  thought 
of  this  rest  for  him  is  very  sweet.  .  .  .  The 
ends  he  sought  were  noble.  .  .  .  Through  all 
the  disappointments,  .  .  .his  faith  in  God's 
goodness  never  grew  dim;  his  willingness  to  do 
and  be  just  what  his  Father  in  Heaven  willed, 
abode  with  him ;  his  desire  to  grow  into  a  per- 
fect likeness  to  the  dear  Lord,  was  the  deepest 
desire  of  his  heart,  and  so  I  know  that  to-day 
he  is  at  rest  and  with  the  Lord. 

[345] 


LIFE  ALONE 

"Sometimes  during  these  last  days  I  have 
been  oppressed  with  the  thought  that  the  pain 
of  separation  from  Will  increases  rather  than 
diminishes;  the  way  before  me  looks  darker, 
I  have  less  courage  for  the  struggle  which  seems 
inevitable.  Still,  in  looking  back  over  the  past, 
I  must  acknowledge  that  but  for  Divine 
strength,  I  should  have  found  life  impossible. 
I  am  grateful  to  that  kind  Providence  which  so 
ordered  the  events  of  my  daily  life  as  to  leave 
me  little  time  for  thought  and  reflection;  I  feel 
that  this  great  burden  of  care,  which  has  pur- 
sued me  during  the  whole  year,  has  been  what 
was  best  for  me." 

"August  24,  1875. 

"Amid  the  rush  of  the  day's  duties,  which 
I  cannot  lay  aside,  even  for  an  anniversary  like 
that  of  to-day,  my  thoughts  will  rush  back  to 
my  marriage  day. 

"Two  thoughts  fill  my  mind  as  I  look  back 
over  the  sixteen  years.  I  am  filled  with  an  over- 
whelming sense  of  gratitude  for  all  the  happi- 
ness which  my  union  with  Will  has  brought 
me.  The  picture  is  only  darkened  by  my  own 
shortcomings.  .  .  .  Another  thought  fills  me 
to-day,  and  that  is  a  consciousness  that  this 

[246] 


BEGINNING  OF  LIFE  IN  AMHERST 

union  with  dear  Will  was  never  stronger  than 
now.  The  bodily  presence  is  removed,  and  a 
terrible  and  impenetrable  darkness  shuts  it 
from  my  longing  sight.  Still  he  is  spiritually 
present  in  my  every  thought.  The  work  which 
is  left  me  to  do,  alone,  the  training  of  these 
dear  children  for  a  higher  existence,  is  the 
same  work  which  for  long  years  we  tried  in 
God's  strength  to  do  together.  It  cannot  have 
less  interest  to  him,  now  that  he  has  entered 
into  that  higher  existence  himself.  No!  a 
thousand  times,  no!  It  must  assume  an  im- 
portance to  him  which  is  far  beyond  anything 
I  can  conceive  in  my  present  imperfect  state. 
To  have  entered  into  the  very  presence  of  the 
dear  Lord,  and  then  to  have  ceased  to  care 
whether  his  children  are  learning  to  love  the 
same  dear  Lord,  this  is  an  impossibility !  Rather 
will  I  believe  that  he  yearns  for  our  highest 
good  with  an  intensity  unknown  to  him  here, 
and  that  he  may  be  permitted  in  some  mys- 
terious way  to  minister  to  us." 

"Sunday,  November  28,  1875. 
"In  my  dreams  last  night  my  mind  wan- 
dered back  to  a  time  before  my  marriage,  and 
[  247  1 


LIFE  ALONE 

there  seemed  to  be  a  fear  in  my  mind  that  a 
misunderstanding  and  perhaps  alienation  was 
likely  to  grow  up  between  myself  and  Will. 
As  I  awoke  to  a  state  of  consciousness  and 
membered  how  very  different  the  reality  had 
been ;  how  for  fifteen  years  we  had  been  spared 
to  each  other,  in  a  happiness  so  deep  and  i 
how  our  union  had  been  enriched  with  the 
lives  of  the  dear  children,  how  even  death 
itself  seemed  powerless  to  really  separate  us 
from  each  other,  I  felt  myself  overwhelmed 
with  gratitude  to  the  dear  Lord  who  had 
made  my  life  so  rich  in  blessing.  .  .  .  Dear 
Lord  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  made  my 
poor  life  so  rich,  and  I  especially  thank  Thee 
that  now,  in  my  sorrow,  I  am  kept  from  mur- 
muring, and  that  I  can  repose  with  such  sure 
confidence  in  Thy  tender  love  and  care." 

She  has  written  in  the  same  little  diary  this 
quotation  from  Charles  Kingsley's  Life:  — 

"The  expression  of  love  produces  happiness; 
therefore,  the  more  perfect  the  expression,  the 
greater  the  happiness!  And,  therefore,  bliss 
greater  than  any  we  can  know  here,  awaits  us 
in  heaven.  And  does  not  the  course  of  nature 

[248] 


BEGINNING  OF  LIFE  IN  AMHERST 

point  to  this  ?  What  else  is  the  meaning  of  the 
gradual  increase  of  love  on  earth  ?  What  else 
is  the  meaning  of  old  age  ?  When  the  bodily 
powers  die,  while  the  love  increases  ?  What 
does  that  point  to  but  to  a  restoration  of  the 
body  when  mortality  is  swallowed  up  of  life  ? 
Is  not  the  mortality  of  the  body  sent  us  mer- 
cifully by  God  to  teach  us  that  our  love  is 
spiritual  and  therefore  will  be  able  to  express 
itself  in  any  state  of  existence  ?  .  .  .  And  the 
less  perfect  union  on  earth  shall  be  replaced 
in  heaven  by  perfect  spiritual  bliss  and  union, 
inconceivable  because  perfect!" 

She  had  rented  a  house  in  Amherst  on 
Amity  Street.  She  sometimes  said  that  she 
never  fully  realized  the  load  of  her  responsi- 
bility till  she  saw  those  seven  children,  Willie 
leading,  issue  from  a  closet,  one  after  another, 
playing  they  were  a  train  of  cars !  It  seemed 
impossible  that  they  could  all  belong  to  her. 
Her  sister,  Miss  Minnie  Kittredge,  had  come 
to  stay  with  her.  The  older  children  were  doing 
well  in  school. 

No  one  could  ever  have  guessed  that  with 
her  husband's  death,  the  buoyancy  of  her  life 
[  249  ] 


LIFE  Atcr 

had  been  taken  away.  Her  heart  broken,  resig- 
nation was  never  her  ideal,  but  a  life  of  joyful 
service.  Hers  was  the  happy  ability  to  identify 
herself  with  the  place  where  she  chanced  to 
be,  "not  moaning  over  lost  splendour  or  trying 
to  keep  up  the  dignitaries  who  might,  in  her 
misfornmr,  have  forgotten  her."  "She  kn< 
as  President  Stearns  said, "  both  how  to  abase 
and  to  abound."  She  had  brought  into  play 
those  qualities  which  would  be  of  use  in  her 
new  life.  It  is  not  strange  that  she  always  found 
at  her  disposal  the  trait  that  would  have  been 
of  most  value  to  her  at  each  period  of  her  lite , 
-  humility  in  youth;  poise  in  India;  courage 
and  wisdom  in  Amherst.  She  had  possessed 
them  all  from  the  beginning! 

In  the  midst  of  quiet,  on  the  eighth  of  June, 
1876,  occurred  the  totally  unexpected  death 
of  President  Stearns.  She  had  come  to  Amherst 
because  he  was  there.  She  had  come  to  rely 
on  his  help  in  bringing  up  her  boys,  —  to  ask 
his  advice  at  each  step  of  her  way.  Yet  it  was 
not  his  advice  alone  on  which  she  depended. 
Her  affection  for  him,  —  could  it  bear  his  loss  ? 
Without  his  help  and  without  him,  —  could 
she  go  on  ? 


BEGINNING  OF  LIFE  IN  AMHERST 

Dr.  Stearns  had  never  become  fully  recon- 
ciled to  his  son  Will's  death.  Frazar  he  had 
sacrificed  to  his  country.  On  Will  he  was  to 
lean  in  his  old  age.  He  never  recovered  from 
the  shock  of  his  death. 

In  her  diary  there  is  an  entry  on  the  eleventh 
of  June,  1876.  "Three  days  since  .  .  .  my 
husband's  father  passed  into  his  rest.  He  had 
not  felt  quite  well  for  a  day  or  two,  but  at- 
tended to  all  his  college  duties.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  eighth  he  attended  prayers  at  college, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  service,  was  seized  with 
an  attack  of  fainting.  Returning  home,  the 
physician  was  summoned,  but  expressed  no 
alarm.  About  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
while  resting  upon  the  couch  in  his  room,  he 
passed  away  without  a  moment's  struggle  or 
suffering. 

.  .  .  "Oh,  how  I  dreaded  to  tell  the  dear 
children  that  they  were  again  so  bereft,  that 
that  dear  presence,  which  had  so  supported  and 
helped  us  in  our  loneliness  had  gone  out  from 
us.  ...  I  tried  to  picture  to  them  the  happi- 
ness of  their  own  papa  in  this  reunion,  and  to 
make  them  feel  that  while  we  must  give  him 
up,  their  papa  would  enjoy  the  blessed  society 


I  IFE  ALONE 

which  we  had  lost.  This  helped  them  greatly, 
and  seemed  to  take  away  much  of  their  gt 

"For  myself,  I  hardly  dare  face  the  increased 
loneliness  which  has  come  upon  me.  I  realize 
now,  as  I  have  not  before,  how  I  have  been 
helped  by  the  consciousness  of  my  dear  fa- 
ther's deep  sympathy  for  me  and  the  children. 
His  sweet  and  tender  interest,  ...  his  long- 
ing for  their  highest  good,  —  what  an  inspira- 
tion have  they  been  to  me  in  my  work!  God 
grant  I  may  feel  the  inspiration  still,  though  I 
can  no  longer  look  into  that  face  so  full  of  love 
and  tenderness.  .  .  .  And  now  to-day,  while 
we  are  mourning,  he  is  at  rest,  and  in  the  very 
presence  of  the  dear  Lord  whom  he  has  served 
so  earnestly." 

"  Sunday,  June  25,  1876. 

"While  I  am  sitting  here  the  children  are 
listening  to  father's  Baccalaureate  sermon  de- 
livered by  Pres.  Clark  Seelye.  I  had  not  the 
courage  to  attend  the  service.  .  .  .  Oh,  if  to-day 
we  could  penetrate  the  veil  which  hides  the  loved 
ones  from  our  view!  With  what  are  their 
thoughts  occupied  on  this  Lord's  day  ?  Are  we 
as  completely  shut  out  from  their  knowledge  as 
they  from  ours  ?  To  questions  like  these  there 


BEGINNING  OF  LIFE  IN  AMHERST 

comes  no  response,  and  the  mysteries  of  the  un- 
seen world  must  remain  hidden  from  us  till  we, 
too,  enter  within  the  veil.  We  have  no  experi- 
ence of  a  life  such  as  they  now  enjoy,  but  this 
mortal  life  of  ours  is  a  part  of  their  past,  and 
must,  it  seems  to  me,  be  still  present  to  their 
thoughts.  ...  If  I  know  my  own  heart  I  long 
for  nothing  so  much  as  for  perfection,  to  be 
transformed  into  the  image  of  the  Saviour !  And 
is  it  possible  that  we  may  look  forward  to  such 
blessedness?  'We  shall  be  like  Him'  —  what 
wonderful  words,  and  with  what  joy  can  we  lay 
aside  this  mortal  body  when  such  hope  is  ours ! 
But  Oh,  for  the  strength  to  honour  Him  now,  to 
reflect  more  of  His  image  in  our  lives,  so  that 
all  near  us  should  feel  the  reality  of  our  Chris- 
tian life!" 

Less  than  six  months  after  the  death  of 
President  Stearns,  Mrs.  Stearns  learned  of  the 
fatal  illness  of  her  brother  George.  He  died, 
four  days  after  the  following  letter  to  her 
sister  was  written  by  Mrs.  Stearns. 

"AMHERST,  MASS.,  March  2,  1877. 
"How  can  we  give  him  up!  ...  He  has 
been  so  especially  dear  and  helpful  to  me  since 

[  253  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

Will  went.  What  happiness  to  have  such  a 
brother,  and  to  feel  that  death,  even,  cannot 
take  him  really  from  us,  only  separate  us,  for 
a  short  time.  .  .  .  Oh,  in  these  dark  hours, 
how  real  do  all  the  hopes,  which  reach  forward 
to  a  better  life  than  this,  seem  —  the  very 
darkness  about  us  makes  them  luminous. 
"  Do  not  call  me  strong  to-day.  I  feel  .  .  . 
weakness  itself;  but  He  who  calls  us  to  walk 
through  this  darkness  can  give  us  all  needed 
strength.  The  poor  children  are  greatly  sad- 
dened. .  .  .  They  are  learning  sorrow's  lesson 
early." 


[254] 


II 

Opening  of  the  School 

SHE  was  being  left  more  and  more  alone. 
The  realization  that  she  could  not  bring  up  her 
children  in  the  present  state  of  her  finances 
was  slowly  forcing  itself  upon  Mrs.  Stearns. 
Could  she,  perhaps,  take  some  other  children 
into  her  family  to  educate  with  her  own  ?  The 
President's  house  was  not  to  be  needed  by  the 
incoming  president. 

The  trustees  of  the  college,  out  of  apprecia- 
tion for  Mrs.  Stearns's  heroism,  and  her  hus- 
band's generosity,  offered  her  the  use  of  the 
President's  house.  She  refused  to  occupy  it 
unless  she  were  allowed  to  pay  rent  for  it. 
The  agreement  was  made,  and  in  August,  1877, 
she  moved  in. 

In  order  to  secure  pupils,  she  sent  out  a 
small  circular,  notifying  her  friends  that  she 
was  about  to  start  a  Home  School  for  Little 
Girls.  She  stated  her  name,  gave  the  advan- 
tages of  being  in  such  a  place  as  Amherst 

[  255  1 


1  IFE  ALONE 

-both  for  the  intellectual  atmosphere  and 
beauty  of  the  location  —  adding  that  the  little 
girls  should  be  brought  up  with  her  own  chil- 
dren, and  have  exactly  the  same  treatment.  In 
point  of  fact,  they  received  more  care,  for,  h. 
ing  undertaken  the  school,  it  should  have  her 
first  attention.  As  for  teachers,  she  and  M 
Kittredge  would  certainly  suffice  at  first.  No 
one  could  question  her  equipment  for  carrying 
on  such  a  school.  It  was  to  be  a  home  for 
these  little  girls.  She  could  surely  make  it  so. 
As  for  their  instruction,  her  early  successful 
experience  in  teaching  had  proved  her  ability. 

The  school  opened  about  the  middle  of 
September,  1877,  with  one  pupil,  who  arrived 
the  day  before.  Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  with  de- 
light, "My  first  pupil  is  to  remain  the  entire 
year."  Still  early  in  the  fall,  another  scholar 
came,  and  her  name  was  Emma  Moody,  the 
daughter  of  the  famous  evangelist,  Dwight 
L.  Moody.  She  had  been  told  by  her  mother 
that  she  was  to  be  sent  away  to  a  boarding- 
school  !  The  mere  thought  of  being  separated 
from  her  mother  and  left  to  the  care  of  some 
person  she  had  never  seen  filled  her  with  dis- 
may. The  hated  day  arrived  in  late  September. 

[256] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

She  left  her  home  in  North  field  and  came 
down  the  beautiful  Connecticut.  From  North- 
ampton she  branched  off  across  the  meadows 
in  the  old,  lumbering  stage-coach,  which  trav- 
elled the  highroad  between  Northampton  and 
Amherst,  and  dismounted  in  front  of  a  very 
dignified,  great  house.  She  noticed  the  terraced 
steps,  the  cold,  white  trimmings  on  the  brick 
walls,  the  great  pine  and  horse-chestnut  trees 
overarching.  Her  heart  thumped  very  hard 
indeed  as  she  went  up  those  steps  and  stood, 
waiting  for  a  maid  to  open  the  very  big,  white 
door! 

What  was  her  joy  to  be  taken  into  a  large 
drawing-room :  —  a  wonderful  Eastern  rug 
quite  covered  the  floor,  and  a  great  round  table, 
such  as  she  had  never  seen,  stood  at  one  side. 
It  was  like  a  circular  piece  of  lace-work  in 
black  silk,  heavy  enough  to  stand  on  top  of  the 
single  pedestal,  self-supported,  just  drooping 
over  at  the  edges.  Yes,  and  on  it  there  stood 
a  carved  ivory  elephant,  which,  having  seen 
at  a  glance,  she  could  never  forget.  And  she 
saw  a  blur  of  a  great  painting  of  waterfalls 
and  wading  horses,  and  many  rich  gold  frames, 
and  a  smaller,  much-carved  table  like  the 

[  257  1 


LIFE  ALONE 

larger  one,  and  tall,  curled  pedestals  like  ir. 
and  chairs  liL-  it!  And  there,  on  the  grand 
piano  which  stood  opposite,  a  bunch  <>!  "brilliant 
autumn  flowers  caught  just  a  ray  of  slanting 
sunlight! 

"Is  this  school,  mama  ?"  —was  all  she  said. 

Pretty  soon  she  heard  a  faint  littK  rustic 
and  a  lady  all  in  black  came  into  the  room. 
She  was  so  superbly  stately!  Yet  so  kindly, 
so  sympathetic  that  the  one  longing  of  the  little- 
girl  was  to  run  and  throw  her  arms  about  Mis. 
Stearns's  neck,  and  tell  her  all  that  was  deepest 
in  her  child-heart  —  farthest  from  the  world, 
even  the  friendly  world  before  now.  From  that 
moment  Mrs.  Stearns  held  the  child's  heart  in 
her  grasp. 

Then  Emma  was  shown  a  beautiful  room, 
all  partitioned  off  with  light-blue  curtains. 
In  it  there  were  three  little  beds,  side  by  side, 
and  one  was  to  be  hers,  and  one  the  other 
pupil's,  and  one  Ethel's.  The  thought  flashed 
across  Emma's  mind,  "  She  lets  her  own  lovely 
daughter  sleep  in  our  room  with  us ! " 

Her  little  guests  were  as  Mrs.  Stearns's  own. 
This  spirit  ruled  the  household.  What  the 
Stearns  children  had,  the  two  little  pupils  had. 

[258] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

There  was  not  any  saving  of  the  best  for 
her  own  children.  Emma  Moody  never  once 
thought  that  she  was  in  a  "boarding-school." 
It  just  seemed  as  though  she  had  come  to  live 
in  the  most  beautiful  of  homes ! 

The  breakfasts  were  so  bright  and  cheery! 
Everybody  came  down  happy.  There  must  not 
be  a  cloudy  face  to  start  somebody  else  out 
gloomily  on  a  brand-new  day.  Harold  was 
the  fun  of  the  house  — as  much  of  a  tease  as 
his  father  before  him.  Yes,  he  was  decidedly 
Emma's  favourite  among  the  boys.  But  Ethel ! 
She  was  as  beautiful  as  the  rarest  exotic  blos- 
som, and  as  near  a  saint  as  any  mortal  could 
be.  She  was  her  mother's  greatest  help.  She 
never  needed  a  word  of  correctipn.  This 
reminiscence  is  interesting  in  the  light  of  what 
Ethel  was  by  nature.  She  had,  as  a  little  child, 
a  temper  which  terrified  them  all,  unlike  Annie, 
who  seemed  to  have  been  born  a  saint.  Mr. 
Stearns  said  of  Ethel,  when  she  was  not  quite 
eight  years  old,  "You  can  see  the  fire  of  the 
child  in  her  face,  while  the  very  attitude  of 
'  Do  it  if  you  dare ! '  is  to  my  mind  singularly 
good.  She  is  our  storm-cloud,  but  has  elements 
of  great  strength  of  character  in  her  compo- 

[  259  ] 


I  in    ALONE 

n."  These  "elements  "seemed  already, — 
she  was  just  twelve,  —  to  have  developed  into 
something  more. 

She  organized  Sunday  meetings  in  the  sunny 
school-room,  to  \slmh  slu-  inviti-d  the  other 
children.  Emma  did  n't  dislike  them  exac 
but  she  felt  she  was  not  a  great  addition  to  tlu 
assembly.  One  Sunday  she  was  seized  with  an 
uncontrollable  tit  of  laughter,  at  precisely  the 
most  serious  climax.  Ethel,  a  year  younger 
than  she,  turned  upon  her.  "Emma,  you 
forget  where  you  are.  I  think  you  had  better 
leave  the  room."  And  Emma  did.  Moreover 
she  waited  outside  the  door,  with  tears  stream- 
ing down  her  face,  to  apologize  to  Ethel  when 
the  meeting  was  over. 

The  children  were  never  left  alone  on  Sun- 
day afternoons.  It  is  a  time  peculiarly  distaste- 
ful to  most  high-spirited  children.  Never  so  to 
Mrs.  Stearns's !  They  all  went  into  the  bright 
school-room,  and  after  they  had  learned  their 
verses  from  the  Bible,  she  told  them  stories. 
"Once  there  was  a  little  girl,  no  bigger  than 
Emma  or  Ethel.  She  was  a  dark-haired,  dark- 
eyed,  dark-skinned  little  girl,  with  beautiful 
coral  earrings  and  a  long,  white  veil  covering 
[  260  ] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

her  all  up.  She  was  not  a  happy,  care-free  lit- 
tle girl.  She  was  married  to  an  old,  old  man, 
and  one  day  the  old  man  died.  A  big  pile  of 
logs  and  sticks  was  made,  and  the  body  of  the 
old  man  was  laid  upon  it  to  be  burned !  The 
little  widow,  if  she  is  not  to  be  despised  by  all 
her  relatives,  and  all  his  relatives,  and  cast  out 
of  society,  must  lie  down  beside  her  husband 
on  the  funeral  pyre,  and  be  burned  with  him ! 
Well,  this  little  widow  of  mine  was  saved  from 
such  a  horrible  death,  three  separate  times,  by 
the  British  soldiers.  They  took  her  at  last  to 
the  Mission  House,  where  she  was  educated  and 
kept  in  safety.  After  she  grew  up  she  taught 
the  other  poor  little  heathen  widows  what  a 
glorious  thing  it  is  to  live  in  Christ ! " 

What  splendid  nutting  trips  they  had  with 
Miss  Minnie !  And  yet,  they  could  hardly  wait 
to  get  back  and  tell  Mrs.  Stearns  each  least 
incident  of  the  day,  how  many  basketfuls  each 
child  had  gathered,  how  far  they  had  walked, 
how  many  trees  Harold  and  Arthur  had  climbed.  . 
Nothing  was  enjoyed  until  dear  Mrs.  Stearns 
had  heard  about  it.  How  often  have  we  all  used 
that  expression,  "Dear  Mrs.  Stearns!"  "Our 
Mrs.  Stearns!"  "My  Mrs.  Stearns!" 
[261] 


LIFE  ALONE 

And  the  keenest  joy  of  all  was  when  Mrs. 
Stearns  would  get  out  her  treasure-trunk  from 
India,  once  in  a  great  while,  —  for  she  rarely 
spoke  of  her  Indian  life,  and  the  splendour  to 
which  she  was  accustomed  there.  Then  the 
children's  round  eyes  would  glisten,  as  she 
showed  them  silks  and  jewels  of  the  unreal 
Orient,  and  told  them  stories  of  bungalows  and 
palm-trees,  and  little  black-eyed  native  chil- 
dren. 

When  the  time  came  to  go  home  for  the 
Christmas  holidays,  Emma  was  asked  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  to  pack  her  own  trunk.  She 
feared  the  worst,  but  accomplished  it  alone. 
Perhaps  the  underpinning  was  not  altogether 
what  it  should  have  been.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
a  pair  of  rubbers  first  caught  the  eye  on  the  top 
tray.  Mrs.  Stearns  came  in  and  suggested, 
laughingly,  that  that  was  not  the  wisest  way  to 
pack  a  trunk.  Without  hurting  Emma's  pride 
in  the  least,  she  made  her  want  to  take  every- 
thing out  and  begin  again.  This  is  entirely 
like  Mrs.  Stearns,  as  is  also  the  fact  that  she 
brought  in  a  chair  and  watched  the  little  girl 
as  she  did  it  for  the  second  time,  suggesting 
many  ways  in  which  to  make  it  easier.  Emma 

[262] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

instantly  realized,  somehow  or  other,  that  on 
the  many  journeys  which  the  Moody  family 
would  be  obliged  to  take,  this  would  be  a  fine 
way  in  which  to  help,  provided  she  could  do  it 
nicely. 

"And,"  Mrs.  Fitt  —  Emma  Moody's  pre- 
sent name  —  added,  "through  all  these  years, 
whenever  I  have  packed  a  trunk  badly  I  have 
been  glad  Mrs.  Stearns  was  not  there  to  see  it. 
Or  if  I  have  packed  one  well,  I  have  longed  to 
show  it  to  her. 

"No,  I  never  felt  as  if  I  were  in  school.  If 
there  were  rules  I  never  knew  them.  As  I  grew 
older  and  went  to  other  schools,  Mrs.  Stearns's 
was  my  ideal  still;  to  grow  more  like  her,  the 
central  thought  which  I  carried  through  my 
girlhood.  When  one  has  loved  Mrs.  Stearns, 
one  must  always  love  her,  and  her  example  is 
more  to  me  now,  after  thirty  years,  than  it  was 
then.  With  one  child  of  my  own  and  all  the 
care  that  it  entails,  I  realize  what  must  have 
been  her  power,  that  with  seven  of  her  own,  be- 
sides a  growing  school,  Mrs.  Stearns  could  lead 
each  one  in  the  way  it  should  go  —  and  never 
against  its  will.  Even  child  that  I  was,  I  often 
wondered  how  she  managed  to  make  her  two 

[263] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

pupils  always  feel  so  happy,  and  never  as 
though  they  were  outsiders.  As  a  child  I  loved 
her,  as  a  mother  I  revere  her. 

"  Judgment  was  her  most  noticeable 
mind,  as  her  power  for  loving  was  her  » 
trait  of  soul.  And  when  one  thinks  of  the  cross 
she  was  carrying  at  the  time,  and  how  heavy- 
hearted  and  uncertain  for  the  future  —  it  is 
almost  incredible.  If  anything  could  be  a 
greater  tribute  than  the  implit  it  trust  of  all  the 
parents  of  her  pupils,  it  would  be  the  faith  of 
the  children  themselves.  For  as  a  child  knows 
something  is  wrong  and  cannot  tell  what,  so 
a  child,  also,  is  the  quickest  to  know  that  all 
is  well  though  it  cannot  tell  why. 

"In  these  days  a  person  establishes  a  pri- 
vate school  because  she  thinks  she  can  make 
more  money  than  by  ordinary  teaching.  Oh, 
if  I  could  find  such  a  school  —  no,  such  a  wo- 
man as  Mrs.  Stearns  to  whom  to  entrust  my 
daughter!  I  could  wish  nothing  better  in  life 
for  her." 

Such  is  the  memory  of  a  girl  of  thirteen  after 
thirty  years!    Such  was  Mrs.  Stearns  to  us  all. 

Chance,  they  say,  compels  a  person  to  change 
[264] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

his  vocation,  and  he  often  finds  he  excels  in 
the  one  a  mere  accident  forced  him  to  choose. 
Mrs.  Stearns  believed  that  not  chance,  but  a 
loving  Providence  had  ordained  for  her  the 
circumstances  best  suited  to  her  own  develop- 
ment. Whichever  way  we  look  at  it,  the  con- 
clusion is  the  same.  She  found  herself  more 
than  able  to  succeed  with  the  life  she  had  un- 
dertaken with  such  hesitancy,  and  was  filled 
with  joy  at  that  realization. 

A  third  scholar  came  later  in  the  year,  and 
one  of  the  three  remained  with  Mrs.  Stearns 
during  the  next  summer.  She  had,  as  well,  a 
friend  or  two.  One  of  them,  Mrs.  Charlotte 
E.  L.  Slocum,  who  came  to  Amherst  to  attend 
Dr.  Sauveur's  Summer  School  of  Languages, 
recalls  that  summer  of  1878. 

"I  had  heard  a  great  deal  from  my  relatives 
about  'Cousin  Emmie,'  and  came  prepared  to 
admire  and  love  her.  She,  on  the  other  hand, 
knew  little  of  me  beyond  the  letters  I  had  writ- 
ten her.  So,  on  arriving,  I  was  rather  awed  by 
her  kindly,  but  distant  and  dignified  reception. 
I  well  remember  how  queenly  I  thought  her, 
and  how  I  wondered  if  she  would  let  me  know 
her  as  I  wished. 

[265] 


I  IKE  ALONE 

"The  school  opened  immediately  and  ab- 
sorbed my  time.  She,  too,  was  very  busy,  and 
we  might  not  have  drawn  much  nearer  but  for 
a  severe  headache  that  attacked  me.  When 
she  found  how  ill  I  was,  she  took  the  case  in 
hand  to  such  purpose  that  the  headache  yielded, 
to  her  great  pleasure,  and  my  ardent  gratitude. 

"Her  mind  was  constantly  busy  with  plans 

for  her  school.   She  discussed  plans  of  study, 

-  finding  that  I,  too,  was  a  teacher,  —  and 

plans  of  Bible  study.    'That  I  shall  always 

conduct  myself,'  she  said. 

"Three  traits  deeply  impressed  me:  —  her 
wise  and  cultivated  ability  to  judge  and  plan : 
her  motherliness,  constantly  watchful,  yet  tact- 
ful in  avoiding  irksome  regulations:  and  her 
happy  and  genuine  religiousness. 

"Coming  up  behind  us  one  day  she  over- 
heard Ethel  lamenting  to  me  the  size  of  her 
hands.  'Yes,'  she  said  as  she  passed  us,  with 
an  intonation  that  expressed  a  world  of  ten- 
der comprehension  and  good  cheer;  'yes,  but 
they  are  going  to  do  great  work  for  mamma.' 

"The  boys  had  their  outdoor  duties,  and 
their  collections  and  other  treasures  to  their 
hearts'  content;  the  girls  their  work  and 

[266] 


OPENING  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

recreations.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  they  all 
were  loyal  and  devoted  to  her.  The  relation 
between  her  and  her  eldest  son,  then  only 
eighteen,  seemed  to  me  ideal,  in  admitting  him 
to  her  confidence  as  a  man,  while  she  mothered 
him  as  a  boy. 

"It  was  interesting,  too,  to  watch  her  plea- 
sure in  the  Summer  School  and  in  intercourse 
with  the  French  professors,  clearly  a  great 
pleasure  to  them  also.  No  doubt  it  brought 
back  memories  of  her  Paris  days. 

"When  I  went  away,  regretfully,  she  added 
to  her  leave-taking  a  quiet,  'I  know  you,  now,' 
and  I  smiled  to  think  how  my  first  awe  had 
vanished.  .  .  .  That  summer  is  to  me  a  unique 
treasure  of  memory." 

The  second  year  the  school  opened  with 
four  scholars,  a  fifth  coming  in  before  the  year 
was  over.  There  was  added,  too,  another 
teacher,  Miss  Lyman,  like  all  her  teachers  a 
genuine  support  and  comfort  to  Mrs.  Stearns. 


[267] 


Ill 

Early  Years  of  the  School 

1  HE  school  of  the  first  years  is  hardly  the 
school  as  it  was  when  under  way.  It  was 
modified  from  year  to  year.  As  her  own  girls 
grew  older,  the  boarders  becoming  correspond- 
ingly older,  the  regulations  were  suitably 
changed.  New  teachers  were  added,  also,  as 
the  need  for  them  grew.  In  the  early  days, 
Mrs.  Stearns  had  had  time  to  kiss  each  child 
good-night.  Later,  when  the  number  had 
grown  to  fifteen,  the  average,  perhaps,  through 
the  years,  it  became  of  course  impossible. 

During  the  third  year  we  find  two  more  en- 
tries in  her  little  diary.  These  are,  unfortu- 
nately, the  last. 

"Februaiy  10,  1880. 

"As  I  look  at  the  last  date  in  this  journal  I 
am  amazed  at  the  flight  of  time.  Oh,  how  full 
of  care  have  these  years  been  since  my  school 
opened !  .  .  .  I  might  fill  a  journal  with  in- 
teresting experiences,  but  1  have  neither  the 
[a68] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

time,  nor  will  the  condition  of  my  eyes  per- 
mit." 

"  February  19,  1880. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  have  the  means  to  help  others 
with,  which  was  once  mine,  how  well  I  should 
know  how  to  use  it!  How  I  should  know  just 
how  to  lighten  the  burden  of  many  a  poor 
widow,  struggling  with  difficulties  of  which  the 
world  is  ignorant!  How  much  of  our  experi- 
ence seems  to  come  too  late!  and  yet  not  too 
late,  if  we  make  that  use  of  it  which  the  dear 
Lord  intends. 

"As  we  get  on  in  life  and  begin  to  see  even 
here  how  terrible  are  the  results  of  disobedi- 
ence to  God's  laws,  do  we  not  shudder  at  the 
thoughtlessness  of  our  earlier  years!  Oh,  if 
only  then  we  could  have  seen  how  our  neglect 
to  overcome  evil  thoughts  and  habits  was  to  be 
visited  upon  our  dear  children,  making  the 
struggle  with  evil  so  much  harder  for  them, 
should  we  not  have  cried  out  for  that  Divine 
help  which  alone  makes  victory  possible  ? 
The  'Thou  shalt  not'  of  our  Heavenly  Father 
should  have  been  enough,  so  that  we  are  with- 
out excuse." 

In  1880  Miss  Snell  came  to  teach  in  the  school, 
IJ269] 


I  IKK  ALONE 

living,  however,  at  n  home.  She  re- 

mained through  all  the  years  till  the  school 

I  given  up.  In  the  fall  of  1880  one  of  the 
pupils  was  Sara  Eddy,  now  Mrs.  Lyles,  who 
has  written  a  few  memories  of  her  "happy 
school  days  with  dear  Mrs.  Steam 

"From  her  first  cordial  welcome,  with  her 
own  individual  and  hearty  handshake,  on 
through  the  years  while  a  pupil,  and  later  only 
as  an  'old  Convent  girl/  it  was  always  like 
going  home  to  go  back  to  Mrs.  Stearns.  The 
mother-welcome  never  failed. 

"My  arrival  at  the  school  was  in  the  old 
Northampton  stage,  and  Mrs.  Stearns  was 
then  living  in  the  President's  house.  We  also, 
in  those  days,  attended  church  in  the  beautiful 
chapel  presented  by  Mrs.  Stearns's  husband 
to  the  college. 

"The  day  began  with  prayers  in  the  library, 
after  which  came  breakfast,  and  then  a  short 
walk  before  school  duties  began.  The  older 
girls  studied  in  their  rooms,  between  recitations 
and  practising,  and  the  younger  girls  were  in 
the  school-room  where  most  of  the  recitations 
were  held." 

"At  10:30  we  had  a  short  recess.  During 
[  270] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

the  recess  we  gathered  in  the  large  music-room, 
where  we  sang  and  ate  cookies.  I  am  sure  that 
the  songs  which  were  then  in  vogue,  were  never 
sung  with  more  zeal  than  we  sang  them.  Our 
favourites  were,  'Won't  You  Tell  Me  Why, 
Robin,'  and  'Some  Day.'  After  this  recess,  Mrs. 
Stearns  had  our  French  class,  and  then  a  class 
in  harmony.  We  had  dinner  in  the  middle  of 
the  day,  and  usually  discussed  current  topics. 
We  had  mathematics  with  Miss  Snell  at  one 
o'clock.  Then  came  philosophy  and  astronomy 
till  3: 30." 

"After  school  hours,  we  took  long  walks  all 
about  the  beautiful  country.  After  tea,  and  be- 
fore study-hour  (which  was  in  our  rooms),  there 
was  sometimes  dancing,  and  often  music.  Par- 
ticularly I  associate  Mrs.  Stearns's  own  won- 
derfully sweet  voice  with  that  hour,  and  some 
of  the  words  of  those  songs  bring  the  whole 
picture,  with  the  sweet  voice,  back  to  me  as  I 
write." 

To  quote  Mrs.  Stearns's  daughter,  Mabel: 
"Every  night  after  supper  the  girls  begged 
mother  to  sing — and  they  gathered  in  the  front 
parlour,  while  she  sang  to  them  song  after  song. 
I  used  to  hide  under  the  sofa  in  the  hall,  hop- 


J,m   ALONE 

no  older  brother  or  sister  would  find  me 
1  take  me  off  to  bed,  but  instead,  that  1 
might  listen  and  cry  to  my  heart's  content,  it 
was  so  beautiful.  The  two  songs  I  remember 
the  most  ilistiru-tly  \M-M-  '  I  he  Lark,' u  Inch  had 
a  beautiful  running  accompaniment,  and  'Gen- 
tle Dove  Within  My  Chamber.'  She  played 
her  own  accompaniments.  1  have  only  to  shut 
my  eyes  and  the  true,  sweet  voice  comes  back 
to  me." 

Mrs.  Lyles  continues,  "We  enjoyed  greatly 
a  little  French  play  in  which  Mrs.  Stearns 
drilled  us,  and  then  invited  a  number  of 
guests  for  an  audience.  She  was  most  enthusi- 
astic in  her  efforts  to  train  her  pupils,  and  so 
delighted  when  she  succeeded  in  imparting  to 
them  her  enthusiasm,  and  a  little  of  her  fine 
accent ! 

"It  was  during  those  first  years  that  Mrs. 
Stearns  had  so  much  illness  and  sorrow  in  her 
family.  The  quiet  example  which  she  set  be- 
fore her  girls  of  courage,  and  a  wonderful  faith, 
was  a  remarkable  illustration  of  her  own  teach- 
ings." 

One  or  two  things  in  this  letter  need  a  word 
of  explanation.  The  name  "Convent"  was 
[  272  ] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

given  to  Mrs.  Stearns's  school  by  the  Amherst 
students,  because  the  girls — or  "young  ladies  " 
they  might  now  be  better  called  —  were  so 
strictly  chaperoned.  Her  girls  have  very  dear 
associations  with  the  name. 

Mrs.  Lyles  speaks  of  the  illness  in  Mrs. 
Stearns's  family.  For  some  time  she  had  been 
noticing  a  growing  weakness  in  her  oldest  son. 
He  had  always  been  rather  delicate,  but 
though  the  doctors  feared  tuberculosis,  they 
could  discover  no  disease  of  any  kind.  He  was 
simply  pining  away.  He  had  entered  Amherst 
College  with  the  class  of  1882,  and  remained 
through  part  of  his  sophomore  year,  when  he 
was  obliged  to  leave.  During  the  year  1880, 
a  girl  had  entered  the  school  who  was  ill,  and 
her  trouble  proved  to  be  tuberculosis  of  the 
lungs.  She  was  so  ill  that  she  did  not  attend 
any  classes,  but  remained  in  her  room.  Ethel 
used  to  sit  with  her,  and  read  to  her,  and  tell 
her  stories.  The  girl  left,  after  a  stay  of  less 
than  three  months,  —  Mrs.  Stearns  thought  it 
wiser,  although  they  did  not  consider  tuber- 
culosis contagious  in  those  days. 

Willie  grew  steadily  worse.  The  school  con- 
tinued as  usual.  The  girls  were  not  permitted 

[  273  J 


I  IKE  ALONE 

to  feel  the  slightest  sadness  on  account  of  his 
illness. 

It  became  necessary  to  send  him  away. 
In  the  spring  of  1881  Miss  Kittrcdge  took  him 
to  Colorado  Springs,  where,  just  a  week  after 
his  arrival,  he  died,  on  the  twelfth  of  V 

Mi. 

Willie  was  the  only  child,  at  the  time  of  his 
father's  death,  who  could  understand  what  his 
loss  meant,  even  in  the  smallest  degree.  Some- 
times in  the  night,  at  the  end  of  a  long,  brave 
day,  Mrs.  Stearns  would  give  way  to  the  grief 
of  her  heart,  and  as  she  lay  sobbing,  there  would 
come  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Willie  would  softly 
ask,  "Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  mother :" 
"No,  dear,"  she  would  reply,  "you  must  go 
back  to  bed  again."  She  always  felt  that  he 
died  of  grief.  His  body  was  brought  back  to 
Amherst,  where  it  was  buried  on  his  twenty- 
first  birthday. 

The  girls,  during  this  brief  period,  were  scat- 
tered in  the  houses  of  various  friends,  until 
after  the  funeral,  when  the  school  dudes  were 
resumed. 

Harold,  meanwhile,  who  had  been  a  year  at 
Andover,  where  his  uncle,  Dr.  Bancroft  — 

[274] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

the  husband  of  Mrs.  Stearns's  sister  —  was 
principal  of  the  academy,  entered  Amherst 
College  in  the  fall  of  1881.  He  remained  during 
his  freshman  year  only,  for  in  1882  he  devel- 
oped alarming  symptoms,  which  foreshadowed 
tuberculosis.  Harold,  the  handsome  boy  with 
such  superb  colour!  Mrs.  Stearns  sent  him 
on  a  sailing  voyage  to  the  Orient.  He  visited 
Japan  and  Java,  and  remained  away  a  year. 

People  have  questioned  how  it  was  possible 
for  Mrs.  Stearns  to  do  for  her  children  what 
she  did.  Where  did  the  money  come  from  ? 
The  only  answer  Mrs.  Stearns  would  make 
is  that  what  they  needed,  they  must  have. 
And  they  did. 

Moreover,  she  discovered  that  some  trades- 
men who  had  been  her  husband's  creditors  at 
the  time  of  his  death,  had  received  only  a  per- 
centage on  what  was  owing  them.  In  a  few  years 
after  the  school  was  started,  she  paid  them  all 
in  full,  and  she  never  borrowed  a  cent  of 
money  in  her  life ! 

Ethel  was  not  only  beautiful,  but  talented. 
She  wrote  well,  had  a  remarkable  voice,  and 
was  the  noblest  and  strongest  character  of  the 
family.  She  had  been  failing  gradually  during 

[275] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

the  entire  school  year  of  1 88 1  -82.  What  could 
be  done  ?  She  had  no  pain.  There  was  no  strug- 
gle. She  only  faded,  slowly.  She  was  not  an 
imalul,  ruver  being  confined  to  her  bed.  Y 
Stearns  tried  to  keep  Annie  away  from  her. 
Yet  she  did  not  \\ish  Annie  to  suspect  that  her 
exquisite  sister  could  do  her  harm.  Annie's 
chief  di-li^ht  was  to  spend  long,  sunny  hours 
with  I  tlul  in  her  large  southern  nx>m.  When 
they  urged  Annie  to  go  outof  doors,  Ethel  would 
say  pathetically,  "  But  she  wants  to  stay  with 
me ! "  And  so  she  stayed.  Shortly  after  the  be- 
ginning of  the  school  year  1882-83,  four  days 
after  her  seventeenth  birthday,  Ethel  died  of 
tuberculosis  of  the  lungs,  on  the  fifteenth  of 
October,  1882.  The  main  dependence  of  her 
mother  was  gone ! 

Some  of  the  girls  went  to  Miss  Snell's  house, 
others  remained  with  Mrs.  Stearns.  The  day 
after  Ethel's  funeral,  the  lessons  were  resumed 
as  usual. 

Could  Mrs.  Stearns  afford  to  look  back,  to 
wonder  whether  she  had  done  all  for  Ethel  that 
could  have  been  done,  or  to  allow  herself  t<> 
realize  the  full  extent  of  her  grief?  Through 
it,  she  seemed  to  have  gained,  in  every  pur- 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

pose,  a  still  higher  tendency.  All  her  energy 
should  be  bent  toward  making  life  gladder  for 
those  who  remained.  The  school  could  not 
pause  to  look  back.  The  words  she  wrote  to 
another  who  was  in  agony  of  spirit,  explain,  in 
part,  her  own  courage.  "  If  only  my  tears  would 
make  your  sorrow  less!  .  .  .  But  Oh,  how 
hard,  how  dreadfully  hard !  I  feel  sometimes 
as  though  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  this 
suffering  from  separations  of  loved  ones  by 
death.  What  horrible  darkness  it  would  be  but 
for  the  revelation  which  Christ  has  made,  .  .  . 
and  the  assurance  that  our  dear  ones  are  there 
waiting  for  our  coming." 

Her  certainty  of  this  reunion  was  unassaila- 
ble. It  was  her  chief  source  of  power  through 
all  the  years.  One  of  her  pupils  at  this  time, 
Hattie  Alexander,  now  Mrs.  Holliday,  writes, 
"Her  silent  grief  impressed  the  girls  very 
much,  and  created  more  sympathy  than  if 
she  had  openly  manifested  it.  ...  For  her 
pupils  there  was  always  a  smile  and  a  loving 
caress,  perhaps  bestowed  as  she  thought  of  the 
beautiful  daughter  she  had  lost. 

"Honour  was  Mrs.  Stearns's  rule.  We  were 
never  commanded  to  do  anything,  but  were 

[  277  ] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

simply  told  what  she  desired,  and  what  she 
thought  was  right.  It  was  her  trust  in  the  girls 
that  won  their  love." 

This  was  about  the  rime  when  Mr.  H.  G. 
Tucker,  of  Boston,  began  to  come  to  M 
Stearns's  school  once  a  week  to  give  piano- 
forte lessons.  Aside  from  the  pleasure  she  took 
in  his  playing  and  teaching,  his  visits  were  a 
very  real  help  to  her.  We  all  remember  how 
eagerly  she  looked  forward  to  "Mr.  Tucker's 
day,"  their  dinner-time  discussions  of  topics 
which  we  could  not  imagine  interesting,  but 
which  had  a  world-wide  scope! 

It  may  not  be  too  inappropriate  to  insert, 
here,  an  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Stearns  sent  by 
Mr.  Tucker,  shortly  after  her  death. 

"The  dearest  friend  on  earth.  The  kindest 
and  most  loving  of  women.  The  best  condi- 
tioned and  most  unwearied  spirit  in  doing  cour- 
tesies. Her  words  were  bonds.  Her  love  sin- 
cere. Her  thoughts  immaculate.  Her  tears  pure 
messengers  sent  from  the  heart.  Her  heart  as 
far  from  fraud  as  heaven  from  earth.  Remember 
her?  Aye,  while  memory  holds  a  seat  in  this 
distracted  globe." 

From  this  rime  on,  art  formed  an  important 

1 278] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

part  of  the  school  life.  Many  girls  studied  not 
only  the  pianoforte  with  Mr.  Tucker,  but  sing- 
ing and  painting  in  oil  and  water  colour  with 
Mrs.  Todd. 

Mrs.  Hollidaygoes  on,  "After  3  130,  we  could 
play  tennis  or  walk.  In  the  winter  we  made 
these  walks  very  short.  Instead,  we  would  go 
to  Mrs.  Stearns's  room,  where  there  was  a 
large  open  wood  fire,  and  we  would  sew  for 
our  bazaar.  Each  girl  felt  she  was  welcome 
at  this  fireside.  This  was  one  of  Mrs.  Stearns's 
endearing  ways.  It  was  during  the  long  winter 
afternoons  that  we  would  prevail  on  her  to 
open  her  curio  trunks,  and  show  us  the  Eastern 
dresses,  embroideries  and  souvenirs,  which 
were  very  rare  and  beautiful.  .  .  . 

"In  the  early  spring  evenings,  just  as  we 
were  retiring,  we  heard  the  Psi  U  songs.  No- 
thing gave  us  more  pleasure  than  the  occasional 
serenades  of  the  college  men.  In  an  instant 
we  were  up,  and  showering  them  with  bou- 
quets. Someway  we  always  knew  these  sere- 
nades were  to  take  place,  and  no  one  was  more 
enthusiastic  than  Mrs.  Stearns.  The  only 
objection  she  had  was  that  we  never  could 
decide  amicably  who  should  throw  the  flowers. 

[  279  ] 


I   II  I       \I  <>NE 

hen  came  the  baseball  games.  All  was 
excitement.  Our  par.is<  .U,  hats  and  colours  (we 
were  always  loyal  toAmlu-rst  >.\M  n-  tin-  absorb- 
ing thoughts  for  days.  We  had  a  great  deal  of 
fun  at  these  games.  The  men  we  knew  would 
come  and  surround  the  steps  of  our  carriages. 
This  was  the  nearest  we  ever  came  to  driving 
with  them.  .  .  . 

"Mrs.  Stearns  had  a  wonderful  influence 
over  every  one.  There  was  no  jealousy,  envy 
or  backbiting,  or  any  of  the  petty  vices  so  ot 
prevalent  among  school  girls.  Her  religious 
influence  was  deeply  felt,  and  has  remained 
with  many  of  the  girls,  now  women,  through 
life. 

"In  the  fall  the  hills  were  covered  with 
radiant  colours.  'Mountain  Day 'was  always 
looked  forward  to  with  more  real  joy  than  any 
other  holiday." 

It  was  on  the  Mountain  Day  of  1882,  the 
day  before  that  of  the  college,  that  a  famous 
escapade  took  place.  In  the  words  of  one  of 
the  chief  actors,  "We  went  to  Mount  Holyoke, 
and,  before  leaving,  wrote  our  names  on  a  blue 
ribbon,  and  tied  it  to  a  stake  on  the  summit. 
The  following  day  the  sophomore  class  went 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

to  Mount  Holyoke,  captured  the  ribbon,  and 
the  next  morning  as  they  went  up  the  hill  to 
chapel,  we  were  electrified  by  the  bits  of  blue 
in  their  button  holes !  ...  So  we  decided  on 
blue  as  our  colour.  The  gold  was  added 
later." 

An  Amherst  friend  of  Mrs.  Stearns  writes, 
"The  relation  of  the  student  body  to  the 
school  was  fine  and  chivalrous.  Every  young 
man  admitted  to  the  'Convent'  must  be  pro- 
perly introduced  by  parent  or  guardian  of  the 
pupil  he  wished  to  see,  before  he  could  be- 
come even  a  Friday  evening  caller;  and  those 
invited  to  the  musicales  and  receptions,  the 
annual  fair,  or  other  occasional  festivities, 
were  either  friends  of  Mrs.  Stearns,  or,  if  it 
may  be  so  expressed,  hereditary  acquaintances 
of  the  pupils.  One  result  of  this  careful  guard- 
ing of  the  girls  from  too  casual  companion- 
ships, was  a  mighty  enhancement  of  the  de- 
sirability of  entree.  To  many  college  students 
nothing  in  their  course  was  more  highly  prized 
than  the  trust  and  approval  of  Mrs.  Stearns, 
evidenced  by  their  admission  to  her  home. 

"In  the  President's  house,  with  college 
buildings  close  at  hand,  it  must  have  been 
[281  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

sometimes  a  difficult  n  maintain  that 

ili  licate  adjustment  of  relation,  uhiili  rirrtim- 
stances  demanded,  between  a  bevy  of 
girls  and  several  hundred  young  men.    Hut 
she  never  failed.    Her  situation  was  furthrr 
complicated  by  the  fact  that  through  most 
the  eighties,  and  until  1894,  Mrs.  Stearns  had 
sons  in  college.    They  lived,  however,  at  the 
Psi  Upsilon  fraternity  house,  of  which  they 
were  members. 

"  1  f  occasionally  there  was  some  enthusiastic 
pupil  to  whom  this  delightful  wilderness  of 
youths  was  new  and  intoxicating,  so  that  she 
was  inclined  to  overstep  bounds  of  stric- 
propriety  in  the  delights  of  sub  rosa  flirtation, 
no  one  outside  heard  or  knew  of  it;  and  the 
offender,  after  an  intimate  talk  with  the  dearest 
of  mentors,  must  have  felt  that  to  be  forgiven 
and  helped  by  Mrs.  Stearns  was  positive  as- 
surance and  guarantee  for  future  perfection." 

Such  were  Mrs.  Stearns's  relations  to  the 
college  students,  formal  indeed,  so  far  as  the 
school  was  concerned.  But  to  the  men  as  her 
sons'  friends,  she  was  the  "valued  adviser  and 
dear  friend."  They  felt  instinctively  her  su- 
perior judgment,  her  power  of  discerning  the 

[282] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

right  in  a  tangled  situation,  and  her  ability  to 
help  them  choose  the  right  when  once  it  was 
shown  them.  What  she  was  to  them  as  a  friend 
is  best  expressed  in  their  own  words. 

"I  first  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mrs. 
Stearns  during  the  opening  months  of  my 
sophomore  year.  From  that  time  on,  through 
my  college  course,  I  saw  her  frequently,  both 
in  and  out  of  her  home.  There  was  about  her 
a  motherliness  that  drew  the  boy  who  was  away 
from  home  naturally  to  her.  I  remember  so 
well  her  quiet  dignity  and  self-poise,  her  spon- 
taneous interest  in  all  that  occupied  the  atten- 
tion of  the  young  people  about  her,  her  un- 
affected genuineness,  her  frank  kindliness. 

"And  now  that  my  college  days  are  receding 
into  a  past  which  the  calendar  says  is  already 
distant,  I  find  the  memory  of  her  is  one  of  the 
most  vivid  recollections  of  that  happy  time. 
After  a  period  of  many  years,  during  which  I 
saw  her  only  once  or  twice,  I  was  again  brought 
into  association  with  her.  The  physical  change 
was  great,  for  the  infirmities  of  age  were  upon 
her,  but  she  was  the  same  Mrs.  Stearns,  alert, 
and  vigorous  in  mind,  affectionate,  living  in  her 
children  and  in  the  wide  circle  of  men  and 

[283] 


LIFE  ALONE 

women,  older  and  younger,  who  had  been  her 
boys  and  girls  in  i-arlit-r  days.  She  never  grew 
old  in  spirit.  The  many  trials  and  sorrows 
that  fell  to  her  lot  only  ripened  and  sweetened 
the  beautiful  nature,  so  that  her  old  age  was 
a  mellowed  youth,  and  at  the  end  of  life,  as 
in  its  prime,  she  was  still  the  interested  com- 
panion, the  sympathetic  friend,  of  everyone 
who  had  the  privilege  of  knowing  her." 

Again:  "Her  great  wisdom  in  handling  the 
girls  under  her  care,  and  the  college  boys  who 
were  her  sons'  friends,  and  who  were  proud 
to  look  to  her  as  their  friend,  was  a  constant 
source  of  wonder.  She  trusted  the.  men  whom 
she  honoured  with  her  friendship,  and  this  very 
trust  made  them  more  manly  and  worthy  of 
her  confidence.  .  .  .  When  her  dearest  ones 
were  taken  from  her  .  .  .  even  in  her  own 
grief  she  was  a  tower  of  strength  to  those  of  us 
who  were  in  trouble  ourselves." 

Again :  "My  mind's  eye  holds  distinctly  and 
gratefully  the  image  of  Mrs.  Stearns.  .  .  . 
Mental  breadth  and  alertness  united  with 
warm  human  sympathies  to  make  the  world 
widely-horizoned  and  endlessly  interesting  to 
her.  It  followed  that  she  was  delightful  in  con- 

[284] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

versation.  ...  I  feel  sure  that  many  college  men 
count  their  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Stearns, 
and  the  open  door  of  her  gracious  home,  as  one 
of  the  best  of  the  good  providences  of  their 
Amherst  days." 

Mrs.  Stearns  was  often  a  mediator  between 
the  men  and  girls,  as  her  sponsorship  in  sev- 
eral love  affairs  proves. 

Harold  had  returned  from  his  long  voyage, 
apparently  well.  He  had  been  only  a  short  time 
in  Amherst,  however,  when  the  serious  symp- 
toms reappeared.  He  went  west  to  remain, 
studying  medicine  in  Kansas  City  and  Denver. 
Arthur  was  sent  to  Andover,  to  prepare  for 
college,  and  entered  Amherst  in  the  fall  of 
1884. 

Meanwhile  Annie,  who  showed  no  signs  of 
tuberculosis  until  a  year  after  Ethel's  death, 
was  taken  ill.  At  the  first  suspicion,  Miss 
Kittredge  took  her  to  Florida.  This  was  in  the 
late  winter  of  1884.  The  trip  did  not  seem  to 
benefit  her.  She  grew  steadily  worse  during 
the  summer.  The  school  began  as  usual  in  the 
fall  of  1884.  Of  the  five  remaining  children, 
Harold  was  in  the  west,  Arthur  was  a  freshman 
in  college,  Alfred  had  been  taken  to  Florida, 

[285] 


I  IKE  ALONE 

Mabel  was  in  school  at  home,  and  Annie,  also 
at  home,  was  now  confined  to  her  bed.  Unlike 
I  rhel,  she  suffered  untold  agony,  in  r  heart  as 
\M-I1  as  lungs  being  affected. 

Ir  would  seem  as  though  no  human  I 
could  bear  such  burdens  as  rested  upon  Mi-. 
S reams.  But  when  is  added  the  fact  that  her 
own  health  was  in  a  precarious  state,  and  her 
eyes  giving  her  constant  trouble,  so  that  any 
one  else  would  have  been  a  hopeless  invalid, 
what  she  accomplished  is  indeed  incredible. 
Her  heart  wrung  with  anguish  —  unable  to 
help  her  child,  whose  sufferings  were  growing 
more  intense  every  day,  she  was  obliged  to  take 
to  her  bed  herself.  She  heard  all  her  recita- 
tions from  September  to  Christmas,  1884,  on 
her  back. 

The  girls  could  come  to  her  just  as  usual. 
She  seemed  surrounded  with  a  sublime  peace. 
As  always,  she  was  the  tender  sympathizer 
with  all  their  trifling  mishaps. 

On  the  fourth  of  March,  1885,  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  Annie  died.  All  the  girls  remained  in 
the  house.  Mrs.  Stearns  rose  to  greater  and 
greater  heights  of  serenity.  "She  did  not  allow 
a  curtain  to  be  drawn  down,  nor  any  crape  to 

[286] 


EARLY  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

be  placed  on  the  door.  To  the  girls  she  said, 
'I  do  not  wish  the  school  lessons  to  be  inter- 
rupted, nor  the  piano  closed.  Our  dear  one 
has  only  gone  to  a  more  beautiful  home,  and 
we  cannot  weep  for  her.  She  has  gone  to  her 
father.  He  will  be  there  to  greet  her/ 

"Were  this  calmness  and  peace  unnatural  ? 
No !  not  for  one  who  walked  so  close  with  God, 
and  who  lived  every  day  and  in  all  circum- 
stances the  religion  she  professed.  .  .  . 

"Never  have  I  witnessed  such  a  triumph 
of  soul  over  heart  sorrow  as  shown  in  her  per- 
fect peace  and  absolute  trust  in  the  infinite  love 
that  was  back  of  the  severe  chastening.  It  was 
not  stoicism,  though  those  who  did  not  know 
her  might  call  it  such,  nor  was  her  calmness 
assumed,  when  she  met  with  others,  but  it  was 
simply  her  anchor-hope,  which  no  storms 
.  could  move." 


[287] 


IV 

Amherst  Activities 

THE  anxieties  of  these  heart-breaking  years, 
the  responsibilities  of  running  her,  now,  large 
school,  of  meeting  her  own  teaching  appoint- 
ments, of  caring  for  her  children,  and  of  her 
perfect  housekeeping,  were  not  apparent.  Her 
Amherst  friends  never  guessed  that  she  was 
over  busy,  or  had  duties  more  exacting  than 
those  of  other  women.  Of  what  she  was  to  the 
town  of  Amherst  we  can  best  judge  by  the  fol- 
lowing appreciation,  written  by  a  fellow  towns- 
woman  and  dear  friend. 

"  In  the  midst  of  a  simple  New  England  col- 
lege town,  Mrs.  Stearns  established  a  gracious, 
cosmopolitan  centre.  Homesick  at  times  she 
must  have  been  —  not  only  for  the  husband 
and  children  who  had  already  gone  onward 
into  the  unknown,  but  even  for  the  details  of 
that  far  different  environment  from  which  she 
had  come,  a  life  brilliant  with  all  the  glamour 
of  the  East,  whose  everyday  incidents,  when 

t  288  ]  ' 


AMHERST  ACTIVITIES 

she  could  be  induced  to  speak  of  them,  sounded 
like  actual  chapters  from  the  Arabian  Nights. 
From  the  splendour  of  the  Orient  she  passed 
to  the  plainer  life  of  a  small  college  town,  the 
same  sweet,  unspoiled,  forceful,  cultivated 
woman  who  had  so  profoundly  impressed  the 
society  of  Bombay. 

"Almost  at  once  she  had  become  one  of  the 
moving  spirits  in  Amherst,  always  on  the  side 
of  betterment,  genuinely  interested,  despite 
continued  personal  bereavement,  in  all  that 
pertained  to  town  and  college. 

"Unconsciously  to  herself  she  broadened  the 
outlook  of  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 
Wider  horizons  dawned  gradually  in  narrow 
lives,  eyes  unexpectedly  opened  to  larger  things, 
not  only  in  details  of  daily  living,  but  in  mental 
attitude  and  toleration  of  what  to  them  was 
new.  Routine  had  never  cramped  her  own 
outlook. 

"Frequently  Mrs.  Stearns  was  called  the 
'first  citizen  of  Amherst.'  Her  standards  be- 
came a  fixed  quantity  for  comparison.  For 
years,  frequent  and  heartbreaking  losses  kept 
her  enveloped  in  crape.  But  it  was  her  only 
sign  of  grief.  Always  her  face  was  serene  and 

[289] 


LIFE  ALONE 

cheerful,  her  greeting  genial.  lu-r  response  to 
another's  happiness  as  In  artklt  as  if  no  d  uui 
had  ever  dimmed  the  sunshine  of  her  own  blue 
sky. 

"In  the  long  veil  and  handsome  seal 
cloak  which  spoke  of  more  opulent  years,  she 
would  have  bestowed  distinction  on  any  com- 
munity; and  her  dignified  presence  in  the  vil- 
lage   streets    became    familiarly    welcome  - 
always  a  commanding  and  distinguished  figure. 

"  Of  the  girls  who  came  to  her '  home-school ' 
for  education  with  her  own  daughters,  sadly 
reduced  by  death  from  three  to  one,  all  felt  her 
inspiring  uplift,  her  optimistic  attitude,  her 
tenacious  and  unswerving  hold  upon  all  high 
planes  of  thought.  Her  spirit  never  faltered 
in  its  celestial  lift. 

"Rough  manners,  were  there  any  in  a  new 
pupil,  softened  under  her  influence  to  all  the 
externals  of  ladyhood.    The  simple  elegance 
of  her  table  took  for  granted  the  familiarity  of 
all  with  the  proprieties  of  the  world  at  large, 
and   the   furnishings  of  her  house  —  carved 
teak,   Persian   rugs,  Eastern   embroideries  - 
accustomed  pupils   and    visitors   alike   to  an 
unusual  and  picturesque  setting. 
[  290  ] 


AMHERST  ACTIVITIES 

"While  entering  heartily  into  the  cheerful 
young  life  about  her,  conducting  classes  most 
inspiringly,  and  doing  her  part  bravely  and 
unshrinkingly  in  town  and  church,  all  aspects 
of  the  inner  life  of  Mrs.  Stearns,  her  sadness, 
her  memories,  the  hopes  still  left,  were  for  her- 
self alone.  She  never  asked  sympathy,  or  ob- 
truded the  slightest  suggestion  that  the  present 
was  in  any  way  a  different  experience  from  her 
delightful  life  in  Paris,  or  the  almost  regal 
years  in  India. 

"Sacrifice  of  herself  was  constant  and  in- 
stinctive. One  instance  will  illustrate. 

"When,  during  a  certain  period,  the  girls 
seemed  unusually  gay  and  conscious  of  the 
proximity  of  the  dominant  sex,  she  quietly 
withdrew,  permanently,  her  pewfuls  of  bloom- 
ing maidens  from  the  college  church  —  that 
gift  of  her  husband  in  his  successful  years,  and 
in  which  are  tablets  in  his  honour  and  that  of  his 
father,  for  twenty-one  years  president  of  Am- 
herst  College.  This,  her  normal  Sunday  home, 
she  left  with  genuine  sadness ;  but  at  the  village 
church,  she  said,  there  would  be  less  to  dis- 
tract the  thoughts  of  young  girls  from  the  real 
worship  of  God. 

[  291  ] 


I  IKE  ALONE 

"A  consistent  opponent  of  the  movement 
for   woman's   suffrage,    she   nevertheless   ex- 
hibited in  In  r  <>\\n  power  and  achievement, 
the  very  qualities  which  in  a  wider  ami  n 
public  position   \\ould  have  brought  i 
to  herself  and  large  betterment  to  the  world. 

"During  a  time  when  the  anti-suffrage 
society  was  seeking  membership  in  to\\n.  In  r 
sympathy  with  the  movement  led  her  into  an 
ardent  house-to-house  canvass  in  a  certain  sec- 
tion. Her  life  had  been  heretofore  quite  tin- 
reverse  of  democratic,  but  she  was  both  sur- 
prised and  gratified  at  the  interesting  homes 
and  persons  she  encountered  on  this  unusual 
excursion. 

"  Elected  on  one  occasion  to  the  school  com- 
mittee—  appropriate  tribute  to  her  well-known 
interest  and  authoritative  views  in  educational 
matters  —  she  resigned  at  once,  a  consistent 
example  of  her  life-long  objection  to  seeing 
women  occupy  public  office. 

"  But  in  home  and  private  educational  lines, 
she  believed,  lay  the  true  sphere  of  woman's 
strongest  influence,  and  she  never  swerved 
from  that  position,  despite  the  devotion  and 
high  character  of  many  who  believed  in  and 

[  292  1 


AM H ERST  ACTIVITIES 

worked  for  the  franchise,  as  the  first  step  to  the 
salvation  of  modern  conditions  —  a  nobility 
of  purpose  which  she  freely  acknowledged. 
It  was  simply  not  her  way  of  aiding  the  up- 
lifting of  womanhood. 

"Mrs.  Stearns  was  always  keenly  suscep- 
tible to  the  best  music.  Well  trained  herself, 
she  warmly  appreciated  thoroughness  and 
good  method,  even  more  in  singing  than  in 
pianoforte  study.  Nor  was  she  less  sensitive 
to  quality  in  the  speaking  voice,  so  generally 
ignored  in  America.  Frequent  recitals  of  the 
best  music  in  her  home  formed  an  entering 
wedge  for  a  gradually  rising  musical  standard 
in  the  town  at  large;  and  the  presence  there 
of  artists  of  wide  reputation,  really  helped  to 
pave  the  way  for  that  larger  development  along 
classic  lines,  which  has  come  to  town  and  col- 
lege in  later  years." 

Left  alone  as  she  had  been,  the  average 
woman  would  have  considered  merely  "getting 
along"  all  that  could  be  expected.  To  Mrs. 
Stearns  the  problem  of  daily  living  was  but 
incidental  to  a  still  constantly  broadening  life. 

"With  a  brilliant  wit,  beautifully  sincere,  the 
home-making  talent  in  generous  measure,  a  deep 

[  293  ] 


I  IFF.  ALONE 

kn<>\\lrdge  of  girl  nature  and  necessities, 
thorough  appreciation  of  the  ;nn  tu  i,i 
life,  a  truly  religious  heart  and  loyalty  un- 
bounded, Mrs.  Stearns  was  always  vividly 
alive,  not  only  to  world  matters,  on  uhuh 
she  was  authority,  hut  in  details  of  every  day, 
in  the  experiences  of  her  frumls,  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  town. 

"  It  was  not  so  much  what  she  taught  the 
girls  in  actual  text-book  information,  \\lmh 
made  every  one  who  left  her  school  a  finer  and 
nobler  woman  than  when  she  came,  but  the 
mere  contact  with  so  fully  rounded  and  un- 
usual a  personality  was  in  itself  a  liberal  edu- 
cation. 

"  I  he  town  was  poorer  when  she  went; 
and  to  her  special  friends  the  niche  will  always 
remain  empty  where  once  she  reigned." 

The  school  was  growing  in  popularity  every 
year.  She  was  succeeding  with  it  far  beyond 
her  hopes.  It  had  become  the  gracious  centre 
she  had  wished.  Day  scholars  were  begging 
admission.  Mrs.  Stearns  accepted  four  or 
five,  never  more  in  any  year.  Dr.  Bancroft, 
her  brother-in-law,  wrote  her  in  1886,  "We 
rejoice  that  you  have  brought  your  school  so 
[  294  ] 


AM H ERST  ACTIVITIES 

handsomely  forward.  God  has  led  you  through 
the  deep,  deep  waters,  and  I  am  glad  the  prayer 
is  heard  for  you  that  your  faith  fail  not." 

Miss  Parsons  had  come  to  teach  in  1886. 
In  1887  Miss  Wright  came,  though  not  as  a 
resident  teacher. 

In  the  spring  of  1887  Mrs.  Stearns  had  her 
only  critical  illness,  a  sudden  attack  of  pneu- 
monia. For  a  time  her  life  was  despaired  of. 
She  recovered,  however,  after  but  a  short  ab- 
sence from  her  school  duties. 

Experiences  are  of  avail  only  when  their 
results  are  embodied  in  character.  Even  this 
illness  she  took  joyfully,  and  gained  from  it 
inspiration  for  further  effort.  Another  ob- 
stacle converted  into  an  opportunity! 

She  had  gone  to  bed  when  it  was  winter. 
When  she  got  up,  the  earth  had  blossomed.  She 
gasped  with  wonder  over  the  spring,  which 
she  insisted  was  more  beautiful  than  ever  be- 
fore. 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "have  I  never  known 
what  it  was  to  love  nature ! " 

She  found  great  happiness  in  the  small  things 
of  nature.  She  knew  there  was  beauty  enough 
in  any  single  landscape  to  rejoice  the  heart  if 

[  295  ] 


I. IKE  ALONE 

only  one  wished  to  find  it.  From  the  early 
spring  chorus  of  wee  things  ID  the 

grass,  and  the  marvels  of  an  ice-crystal,  to  the 
fury  of  a  great  storm,  all  gave  her  keen  en- 
joyment. She  had  sources  of  happiness  un- 
dreamed of  by  small  minds.  Shall  we  ever 
forget  the  joy  witti  \\hu-h,  in  later  years,  she 
announced  the  return  of  the  song  sparrow  in 
the  big  hedge,  the  first  note  of  the  cat-bird, 
or  how  she  would  rush  from  one  \\imlow  to 
another  to  see  the  northern  lights  ?  She  loved 
them  for  themselves,  yet  she  felt  in  them  a  larger 
and  deeper  meaning.  Charles  Kingsley,  in  a 
little  passage  she  often  quoted,  explains  her 
attitude. 

"Do  not  study  matter  for  its  own  sake, 
but  as  the  countenance  of  God !  Try  to  ex- 
tract every  line  of  beauty,  every  association, 
every  moral  reflection,  every  inexpressible 
feeling  from  it.  Study  the  forms  and  colours 
of  leaves  and  flowers,  and  the  growth  and 
habits  of  plants;  not  to  classify  them  but  to 
admire  them,  and  adore  God.  Study  the  sky ! 
Study  water!  Study  trees!  Study  the  sounds 
and  scents  of  nature !  Study  all  these,  as  beau- 
tiful in  themselves,  in  order  to  re-combine  the 

[296] 


AMHERST  ACTIVITIES 

elements  of  beauty;  next,  as  allegories  and 
examples  from  whence  moral  reflections  may 
be  drawn;  next,  as  types  of  certain  tones  of 
feeling.  .  .  .  It  is  a  great  cause  for  thankful- 
ness that  we  can  appreciate  all  this !  How  it 
adds  to  the  joy  of  living,  and  also  to  the  sense 
of  God's  love  for  all  his  creatures ! " 

Harold  had  been  for  four  years  a  practising 
physician  in  Colorado.  He  had  married  one 
of  Mrs.  Stearns's  pupils  in  1885,  and  had  two 
children.  During  this  time  he  was  apparently 
perfectly  well.  Removing  to  a  less  stimulating 
climate,  the  tuberculosis  contracted  possibly  ten 
years  before  broke  forth  suddenly,  reached  a 
climax,  and  Harold  died  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
1890.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  achieve- 
ments in  Mrs.  Stearns's  life  is  a  comment 
upon  the  care  which  she  gave  her  girls.  Not 
one  pupil  ever  contracted  tuberculosis  in  her 
school! 

Amherst  was  electing  a  new  president. 
He  would  need  the  President's  House.  Mrs. 
Stearns  was  now  obliged  to  leave  the  family 
home  and  begin  again.  The  more  hardship, 
the  more  capable  of  enduring  it  she  steadily 
became.  The  winter  after  Harold's  death  she 

[  297  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

chose  her  new  home,  which  became  the  we  II- 
known  "Convent"  of  later  days.  During  the 
following  summer  she  moved.  The  house  was 
ready  for  the  beginning  of  the  school  year, 
1891.  Of  her  three  children  now  left,  only 
Mabel  was  at  home.  Arthur  was  teaching, 
and  Alfred  had  entered  college  in  the  fall  of 
1890. 

An  illuminating  incident  occurred  dining 
the  period  just  after  moving.  It  was  Saturday 
morning,  at  the  end  of  a  long,  busy  wi 
when  Mrs.  Stearns  was  particularly  fatigued. 
One  of  the  girls  wanted  to  tack  up  some  pic- 
tures in  her  room.  She  went  upstairs  to  the 
big  closet  where  she  found  Mrs.  Stearns  put- 
ting away  linen. 

"Mrs.  Stearns,"  she  asked,  "do  you  know 
where  the  hammer  is?" 

"I  think  it  must  be  in  the  cellar,"  was  the 
reply,  "I'll  go  right  down  and  see."  And  it 
was  only  with  difficulty  that  she  was  persuaded 
not  to  hurry  off  in  search  of  it ! 

Mrs.  Stearns's  attitude  toward  life  precluded 
the  possibility  of  such  faults  as  envy,  jealousy, 
worldly  ambition  or  selfishness  of  any  sort. 
Are  our  desires  to  be  somewhere  else  than 


AMHERST  ACTIVITIES 

where  we  are,  to  have  something  else  than  what 
we  have,  to  do  something  else  than  what  we 
do,  her  desires  ?  Did  she  wonder  whether  she 
was  getting  the  consideration  she  deserved  ? 
Expecting  deference,  was  she  hurt  at  any  trifle 
she  failed  to  receive  ?  Can  we  measure  her  by 
the  world's  standards  ? 

Mrs.  Stearns  had  always  considered  the  in- 
clinations of  the  rest  of  mankind,  rather  than 
her  own  :  on  the  New  England  farm  where  the 
good  of  the  individual  was  secondary  to  that 
of  the  family ;  in  subordinating  her  wishes  to 
those  of  the  aunt  by  whose  kindness  she  was 
enabled  to  go  to  school  in  Cambridge;  in  her 
married  life,  or  supremely,  in  that  longer  period 
when  children  and  adopted  children  depended 
upon  her  joyously-given  devotion. 

I  love  to  contemplate  her!  A  bird  far,  far 
up  just  sailed  majestically  past  without  a 
flutter.  His  flight  is  as  easy  for  him  as  for  the 
sparrows  of  the  underbrush  to  find  grubs. 
Should  we  be  jealous  if  some  persons  are  like 
that  ?  And  envy  them  their  effortless  progress 
through  the  upper  air  ? 


[  299  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

"  Angelic  woman!  pan  my  power  to  praise 
"In  language  men  thy  r.il«nti,  temper,  nun.!, 

"Thy  solid  worth,  thy  captivating  gra 

"  1  hou  friend  and  ornament  of  human  kind. 

"Listen!   It  is  not  sound  alone,  't  is  sense, 
"  T  is  genius,  taste  and  tenderness  of  soul; 

44  T  is  genuine  warmth  of  heart  without  pretense, 
"And  purity  of  mind  that  crowns  the  whole." 


V 

Later  Years  of  the  School 

To  us  who  entered  Mrs.  Stearns's  school  in 
its  later  years,  came,  perhaps,  a  fuller  revela- 
tion of  the  sweetness  and  power  of  her  life 
than  to  those  who  knew  her  before  she  had 
reached  the  acme  of  heroism,  before  sorrow 
had  tested  the  depths  of  her  nature.  Such  a 
flood  of  memories  rushes  over  me !  There  seems 
to  be  not  one  noble  trait  of  character  which  she 
did  not  possess.  This  is  the  danger  in  trying 
to  describe  so  great  a  character.  The  tempta- 
tion is  to  give  it  all  the  virtues,  without  differen- 
tiating those  peculiar  to  it,  and  to  make  it,  not 
an  individual,  but  a  catalogue  of  virtues.  But 
I  have  searched  in  vain  for  offsetting  faults. 

Each  slightest  incident  reveals  something  of 
her  personality  just  as  truly  as  the  most  gen- 
eral sketch  which  tries  to  include  everything 
in  a  characteristic  phrase.  How  vividly  we 
remember  her  as  she  sat  at  dinner,  crumbling 
her  little  slice  of  Swedish  brown-bread,  or 
[  301  1 


I  IFF  ALONE 

reading  us  the  Springfield  Republican  —  inter- 
esting us  in  foreign  world  movements  of  \\  hu  li 
we  might  never  have  heard  but  t«.r  In  i  '  I 
remember  her  broadmindcd  approval  of  the 
English  during  the  Boer  war,  that  delicate  sub- 
ject which  so  many  families  handled  with  white 
gloves  —  if  they  dared  approach  it  at  all. 

We  picture  her  as  she  sat  at  the  grand  piano- 
forte every  morning  after  breakfast,  playing 
for  us  to  sing  "Awake  my  soul,  and  with  the 
sun,"  "Love  divine,"  "  1  tcrnal  Father,  strong 
to  save,"  or  "Immanuel."  Or  on  Sunday 
evenings  when  we  might  choose  our  favourite 
hymns  from  Mr.  Glezen's  book,  and  sing  as 
long  as  our  ambitious  voices  lasted.  One  of 
the  girls  wrote  Mrs.  Stearns  on  her  seventieth 
birthday:  "The  dearest  hour  of  our  Sunday 
at  school  was  when  you  used  to  play  hymns 
for  us.  ...  As  the  years  go  by,  those  memo- 
ries are  ever  more  precious.  Don't  think,  Mrs. 
Stearns,  that  the  lessons  which  you  taught  us 
then  are  all  forgotten.  You  often  had  cause  for 
discouragement,  but  you  did  not  know  how 
your  words  and  example  would  remain  in  our 
minds  long  after  we  had  left  you  and  the  dear 
'Convent/  You  and  your  teaching  have  been 
[  302  ] 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

the  most  powerful  influence  for  good  in  my 
life.  Your  girls  rise  up  to  call  you  Blessed." 

Or,  we  picture  her  as  we  repeated  with 
quaking  voices  La  Fontaine's  fables  in  the  big 
school-room,  or  as  she  taught  us  philosophy, 
or  interpreted  the  Bible  in  her  own  room,  on 
Sunday  afternoons,  or  read  aloud  the  one  hun- 
dred and  nineteenth  Psalm. 

Can  we  not  see  her  as  she  sat  every  evening 
after  supper  in  her  great  arm-chair,  under 
the  standing  lamp  in  the  library,  reading  to  us 
the  Sun  Maid  or  the  White  Seal,  John  Halifax, 
Gentleman,  Young  Mrs.  Jardine,  Ramona  or 
The  Sowers,  while  the  girls  clustered  about  do- 
ing fancy-work  for  the  fair  ? 

The  books  which  she  selected  for  us  to  hear 
were  those  which  would  both  interest  us  and 
give  us  an  insight  into  high  motives  and  ideals. 
Mrs.  Stearns  never  became  a  slave  to  books 
with  all  sorts  of  imaginary  obligations  to  them. 
They  were  made  for  enjoyment,  as  people 
were  made  to  be  loved. 

Or  is  our  clearest  remembrance  of  her  as 
she  started  up  town  in  her  long,  black  veil, 
followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  majestic 
Jet,  meeting  Mrs.  Tuckerman  on  her  way 

[  303  ] 


I  IFF  ALONE 

home,  and  walking  up  and  down  with  her  to 
the  end  of  the  pavement  till  almost  mail  time  ? 
Or  is  it  as  she  sat  rocking  and  reading  to  us  our 
favourite  books  when  we  were  ill  in  bed  ?  No 
detail  is  too  small  to  express  her,  and  she  is 
expressed  in  each  one. 

Everything  in  the  school  routine  was  ar- 
ranged for  the  least  irksome  good  of  the  scholars. 
After  breakfast  at  7 130  we  had  prayers,  then  a 
walk,  —  always  two  girls  together;  recitati- 
study  and  practice,  beginning  at  nine.  At  10 130 
we  had  either  milk  or  apples.  At  twelve  we  all 
trooped  to  Mrs.  Stearns's  room  to  receive  our 
mail.  At  12 130  we  had  dinner.  From  1 130  to  4 
we  had  recitations,  and  then  we  walked  or 
played  tennis  till  supper  at  six.  She  read  to  us 
rill  7 130,  we  studied  an  hour,  had  gymnastics 
in  the  school-room,  crackers  and  milk  in  the 
pantry,  and  put  out  our  lights  at  ten. 

On  Wednesdays  the  whole  school  joined  in 
rather  a  different  programme.  We  had  dicta- 
tion, mental  arithmetic  —  our  triumph  or  our 
despair!  —  spelling,  "critical  readings"  of 
American  authors  and  our  gymnastic  lesson, 
for  which  we  all  practised  fifteen  minutes  every 
day  during  the  week. 

[304] 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

Mrs.  Stearns  was  very  apt  to  spend  the 
evenings  with  her  Swedish  servants.  Knut, 
her  Swedish  man,  whom  we  knew  in  the  later 
years,  said,  "She  took  such  an  interest  in  us 
all !  After  the  dishes  were  done  she  would  often 
come  out  into  the  kitchen  and  sit  in  the  big 
rocking  chair  and  read  English  with  us  —  we 
were  all  but  a  short  time  over.  I  never  had 
anybody  so  kind  to  me  in  all  my  life  as  Mrs. 
Stearns.  She  was  always  so." 

Two  girls  entertained  the  school  on  Friday 
evenings,  except  once  in  the  month,  when  the 
older  girls  were  allowed  to  have  their  callers, 
certified,  so  to  speak,  college  students.  Some 
of  these  parties  were  very  ingenious,  all  of  them 
delightful.  On  Saturday  morning  we  arranged 
our  bureau-drawers,  did  our  mending,  and  then 
went  in  two  divisions  up  town,  where  we  had 
one  thrilling  opportunity  of  going  into  the 
shops,  —  to  us  a  most  impressive  rite,  and  a 
privilege  to  be  profoundly  grateful  for!  After 
dinner  we  had  "missionary  hour"  when  we 
sewed  for  the  fair.  Then  we  might  drive  with 
Miss  Kittredge  or  Miss  Parsons,  or  amuse 
ourselves  as  we  liked  till  supper  time.  The 
evening  passed  as  usual. 

[305] 


LIFE  ALONE 

On  Sunday  morning  we  studied  our  Bible 
lesson,  and  went  to  church.  We  were  all  to  go 
to  church,  either  with  Mrs.  Stearns  to  the  Con- 
gregational, or  with  one  of  the  other  teachers 
to  the  Episcopal  church.  Nobody  must  be  kept 
from  going,  the  maids  by  their  work,  or  the 
girls  by  a  makeshift  headache.  This  was  one 
of  the  strictest  rules.  (Another  was  punctuality 
at  meals.  For  being  late  there  was  no  penalty 
except  one's  own  unfailing  loss  of  self-respt 
We  went  to  dear  Mrs.  Stearns's  Bible  class 
after  dinner,  then  passed  a  quiet  afternoon, 
sometimes  going,  a  select  few  at  a  time,  to 
vespers  at  the  college  church;  and  hymns 
closed  the  day. 

Even  more  than  the  school  routine,  the  days 
that  she  gave  up  to  our  pleasure  show  her  wise 
indulgence.  She  allowed  us  to  go  to  the  col- 
lege gymnastic  exhibitions,  some  lectures  and 
baseball  games,  yet  the  number  of  such  func- 
tions was  so  discreetly  limited  that  the  girls 
looked  forward  to  them  as  the  dearest  excite- 
ments of  the  year.  There  was  just  enough  in- 
tercourse allowed  with  the  college  men,  not 
enough,  however,  to  neutralize  the  old  proverb 
that  distance  lends  enchantment. 
[306] 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

Can  we  ever  forget  the  Mountain  Days  ?  In 
autumn,  when  we  drove  through  Mill  Valley, 
past  the  house  with  D  K  written  on  the  roof, 
which  profound  riddle  it  was  my  never-ending 
shame  not  to  have  guessed  alone,  through  the 
Notch  and  the  Devil's  Garden,  inhabited  then 
by  dainty  white  asters  and  powdery  golden-rod, 
on  to  South  Hadley  and  up  the  other  side  of 
Mount  Holyoke,  taking  the  inclined  railway  to 
the  top  ?  And  then  the  fun  as  the  barges  stopped 
at  Titan's  Pier,  the  great  cliffs  above  the  Con- 
necticut, and  we  set  the  table,  and  forgot  the 
scurry  we  had  had  to  cut  all  the  bread  and 
make  all  the  sandwiches  fit  in  the  box  before 
starting  (for  Mountain  Day  could  never  be  se- 
lected until  blue  sky  indicated  perfect  weather 
in  the  early  morning)  ?  And  later,  when  we 
bowled  through  Hadley  Street  on  our  way 
home  toward  dark,  and  sang  all  the  old  songs 
—  when  we  were  not  in  the  village !  —  and 
came  in  tired  but  happy  as  larks  ? 

Then  there  was  the  Saturday  in  late  March 
before  the  snow  was  all  gone,  when  we  went  to 
Plum  Trees  for  a  "  sugaring-off "  in  true  old- 
fashioned  style.  How  we  burrowed  under  the 
hay  in  the  big  barns,  and  watched  the  sap  in 

[  307  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

the  great  ten-foot  rin  pan  bubble  up  over  a  fire 
of  whole  trees!  And  how  we  ate  die  maple-wax 
on  snow  at  supper  time,  and  baking-povs 
biscuits,  and  large  pick! 

We  passed  our  spring  Mountain  Day  in  the 
silent  hills  toward  the  north,  where  the  deeply 
hidden  Toby  stream  tumbled  down  over 
mossy  rocks,  the  columbines  and  maiden-hair 
Km  balanced  on  their  trembling  stems,  and 
the  rare  Louisiana  water- thrush  tilted  up  and 
down.  We  used  to  think  how  wonderful  it  was 
that  he  should  be  here  when  he  is  found  no 
where  else  in  the  vicinity  —  here,  the  only  part 
of  the  hills  we  visited  !  There  was  not  a  grow- 
ing or  singing  thing,  not  a  wisp  of  cloud  in  the 
farthest  sky  that  did  not  delight  dear  Mrs. 
Stearns,  and  tempt  her  to  show  it  to  us  —  for 
she  hated  to  have  us  miss  what  had  given  her 
pleasure.  It  is  precious  to  know  that  she  loved 
nature  so. 

Of  far  another  kind  was  die  enjoyment  we 
had  in  the  concert  which  Mr.  Tucker  and  other 
artists  gave  at  Mrs.  Stearns's  house  in  the 
spring,  and  the  musicale  a  week  later — cnu-1 
contrast!  —  when  all  his  quaking  pupils  per- 
formed. The  fair,  for  which  we  had  been  sew- 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

ing  all  winter,  or  indeed,  since  the  previous 
fair,  was  the  most  exciting  event  of  all.  For  to 
this  were  invited  not  only  all  of  Amherst,  but 
certain  favoured  students  as  well.  Ladies,  who 
would  be  liable  to  add  materially  to  the  funds, 
were  invited  in  the  afternoon,  the  less  desirable 
students  came  in  the  evening  for  the  candy  and 
eatables,  left-overs  and  certain  little  carefully 
designated  objects  which  had  not  appeared 
in  the  afternoon,  value  not  to  exceed  twenty- 
five  cents !  The  proceeds  of  this  fair  Mrs. 
Stearns  divided  between  the  McCall  Mission 
and  India,  where  it  was  sent  for  the  education 
of  the  very  little  widows  whom  we  had  heard 
about  in  story-telling  time,  or  during  mission- 
ary hour  on  Saturday  afternoons.  Mrs.  Stearns 
so  enthused  us  all  with  the  missionary  fervour, 
that  I  distinctly  remember  one  girl  who  washed 
three  other  girls'  hair  in  an  afternoon,  gaining 
forty-five  cents  for  the  missionary  box. 

Certain  much  appreciated  privileges  were 
given  us.  Were  we  "old  girls,"  Mrs.  Stearns 
allowed  us  to  choose  our  room-mate,  or  mates, 
for  the  coming  year.  Did  we  realize  her  kind 
forbearance  with  our  "initiation,"  letting  us 
sit  up  on  that  eventful  night  until  eleven 

[  309  1 


LIFE  ALONE 

o'clock,  her  actual  anxiety  over  the  woes  of 
the  thousand  and  one  Greek  letter  and  other 
secret  societies,  with  which  the  school  spas- 
modically swarmed  ?  She  did  not  laugh  at 
them  —  they  were  more  important  t<>  us  than 
the  whole  Chinese- Japanese  war  —  nor,  on  the 
contrary,  did  she  allow  us  to  go  too  far.  <  >n 
one  occasion  we  were  to  have  a  double  wed- 
ding. The  altar  had  been  decorated,  the  orange 
blossoms,  even,  arranged.  Just  as  the  nuptial 
march  on  combs  had  begun,  Mrs.  Stearns  dis- 
covered the  trend  of  affairs,  and  forbade  the 
sacrilege. 

Much  has  been  said  of  Mrs.  Stearns  as  a 
mother.  And  a  mother  she  wished  primarily 
to  be.  But  she  was  a  gifted  teacher.  Who  of 
us  who  heard  her  explain  the  inner  signifi- 
cance of  Bible  stories  and  the  life  of  Christ 
can  ever  forget  the  special  force  with  which 
they  were  impressed  upon  us  ? 

And  she  had  the  greatest  of  all  the  teach- 
er's gifts  —  that  of  giving  confidence  in  their 
own  ideas  to  her  pupils.  One  day  in  philo- 
sophy class  we  were  discussing  free-will,  and 
were  getting  much  confused.  Mrs.  Stearns 
said,  "Great  philosophers,  girls,  cannot  un- 

[310] 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

derstand  this  subject."  "But/  can,"  piped  up 
one  enthusiast,  and  we  all  solemnly  listened  to 
her  exposition  of  the  subject. 

Mrs.  Stearns's  quiet  little  sense  of  humour 
let  us  out  of  many  tight  places.  On  one  occa- 
sion there  had  been  some  shocking  misde- 
meanour. The  culprits  waited  a  long  time  — 
much  longer  than  excusable  —  before  acquaint- 
ing Mrs.  Stearns  with  the  full  extent  of  their 
guilt.  When  the  confession  was  over,  she 
looked  at  them  gravely  and  asked,  "Is  that 
all  ? "  They  felt  that  no  conceivable  punish- 
ment would  be  too  severe.  "Yes,  Mrs.  Stearns." 
.  .  .  "You  may  go  now." 

To  each  girl  Mrs.  Stearns  gave  a  specific 
object  to  struggle  for,  its  calibre  perfectly 
suited  to  the  individual,  sometimes  summed 
up  in  a  word.  Her  range  of  selection  was  as 
wide  as  her  knowledge  of  human  nature,  for  the 
watchwords  might  be  "Leave  time  enough!" 
or  "Human  kindness!" 

She  encouraged  us  to  work  out  problems  for 
ourselves,  even  though  they  had  been  solved 
a  thousand  times  over,  or  a  thousand  years 
ago.  She  gave  self-confidence  to  the  shy  girl, 
and  to  the  over-confident  she  taught  the  grace 
[3"] 


I   III     A  I  oNB 

of  consideration  for  other  people.  From  each 
she  drew  the  best,  and  put  the  best  inrrrprc- 
t.ition  on  what  she  did;  and  Mrs.  Stearns  was 
never  slow  to  change  her  opinion  of  a  girl 
when  a  disagreeable  trait,  once  shown,  had 
ceased  to  characterize  her. 

She  did  not  compare  excellences,  wliuh 
would  not  admit  of  comparison,  nor  discount 
one  girl's  best  because  it  was  another's  start- 
ing point.  "  Because  the  eagle  can  fly  higher,  it 
does  not  follow  that  the  gnat  cannot  fly  at  all ! " 

Unlike  such  large  numbers  of  virtuous  New 
Englanders,  who  are  perfect,  —  or  would  be 
if  they  did  not  think  they  were,  —  and  scorn 
the  rest  of  the  world  on  that  account,  Mrs. 
Stearns  could  tolerate  a  point  of  view  differing 
from  her  own.  She  did  not  share  the  inhuman 
attitude  of  the  quick  New  Englander,  who  says 
of  a  wrong-doer,  "How  stupid  of  him!  What 
did  he  for  ?"  Through  her  husband's  buoyant 
nature  she  had  learned  to  understand  temper- 
aments unlike  her  own.  Her  foreign  experience 
had  broadened  her  sympathies.  Standards, 
however,  lower  than  hers  she  could  not  tol- 
erate, and  her  methods  of  raising  them  were 
sometimes  heroic. 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

She  helped  us  not  only  in  concrete,  appreci- 
able ways,  but  in  intangible,  incalculable  ways. 
She  was  a  practical  adviser,  yet  a  very  real 
inspiration. 

Our  environment  there  enabled  us  to  appre- 
ciate the  value  of  good  taste.  Mrs.  Stearns's 
standard  was  accepted  as  ours  in  other  things 
as  well  as  in  taste.  Her  character  was  un- 
consciously adopted  as  our  model.  She  per- 
sonifies to  us  all  those  qualities  which  we  have 
seen  embodied  in  her.  We  know  that  trust 
and  strength  to  face  anything  that  the  world 
calls  bereavement  can  exist,  because  we  have 
known  her  living  example.  For  a  young  girl  to 
have  such  a  visible  ideal  gives  her  the  assur- 
ance that  it  is  possible  of  attainment. 

Yet,  as  has  been  said  of  another  great  wo- 
man, she  had  small  desire  to  re-make  the 
characters  of  others  into  her  own  likeness; 
seeking  rather  to  find  some  hidden  virtue  in 
them  which  she  might  develop  into  a  lovely 
fabric  of  finer  texture,  possibly,  than  her  own. 

Nothing  can  more  beautifully  show  her  love 
for  her  girls  than  a  letter  she  wrote  them  just 
after  a  reunion,  at  Amherst,  of  all  her  former 
pupils.  It  is  dated,  — 

[  313  ] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

"  November  i,  1898. 

"Mv  DEAR  GIRLS: 

"  It  will  be  impossible  for  me  ever  to  express 
half  the  joy  which  our  delightful  reunion  caused 
me.  To  look  into  your  faces  once  more,  to  hear 
your  expressions  of  loyalty  to  the  school,  to  be 
made  sure  that  you  were  acting  well  your  part 
in  life,  all  this  caused  me  the  deepest  happi- 
ness. 

"And  then  the  beautiful  gift  which  followed 
our  pleasant  meeting  together!  How  can  I 
sufficiently  thank  you  for  it  ?  I  look  at  it  con- 
stantly with  delight,  feeling  sure  that  it  ex- 
presses the  love  of  my  dear  girls.  How  could 
you  have  guessed  that  I  greatly  desired  to  pos- 
sess the  complete  works  of  George  Eliot  ? 

"I  have  never  realized,  as  fully  as  now, 
how  rich  my  own  life  has  been.  To  love  you 
all,  to  rejoice  in  your  happiness,  to  enter  with 
deep  sympathy  into  your  sorrows,  to  follow 
every  step  in  your  lives  with  loving  interest,  is 
not  this  an  experience  for  which  to  be  truly 
grateful  ?  And  all  this  has  come  to  me  through 
what  the  world  calls  —  misfortune !  How 
safely  may  we  trust  our  lives  to  the  care  of  a 
loving  Heavenly  Father,  feeling  sure  that  the 

[3-4] 


LATER  YEARS  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

seeming   misfortunes  may  prove   the    richest 
blessings. 

"And  now  may  the  dear  Father  bless  you 
all.  It  is  a  great  grief  to  me  that  I  am  too  busy 
to  write  you  often,  but  I  never  forget  you. 
And  I  am  very  happy  to  have  you  write  to  tell 
me  of  any  new  experience  of  joy  or  sorrow. 

"As  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  write 
you  separately,  may  I  ask  you  to  kindly  for- 
ward this  letter  to  the  person  whose  name 
follows  your  own  on  the  list  which  I  enclose. 
"Always  affectionately  yours, 
"MARY  E.  STEARNS." 

There  were  few  changes  in  the  school. 
Miss  Wright  had  left.  Her  place  was  taken 
by  Miss  Bigelow  or  Miss  Crowell.  Miss  Becker 
came  to  relieve  Miss  Kittredge  of  the  work  in 
German. 

Bereavement  never  left  Mrs.  Stearns  for 
long.  In  1896  her  brother,  Dr.  Kittredge,  died, 
and  in  1898  her  sister,  Mrs.  Bancroft.  At  the 
time  of  Mrs.  Bancroft's  death  she  wrote,  "For 
those  who  are  gone,  all  is  well,  but  we  must 
still  be  anxious  for  the  living,  and  long  that 
they  may  act  their  part  well. 

[3-5] 


LIFE  ALONE 

"That  Fannie  is  really  gone  from  us  seems 
like  a  dream.  Let  us  thank  God  that  she 
J  so  well  and  that  we  have  only  blessed 
memories  and  joyful  anticipations.  .  .  . 

"Poor  Mr.  Bancroft!  My  heart  goes  out  in 
deepest  sympathy  to  him,  for  1  know  what 
the  loss  of  that  sweet  companionship  means. 
The  process  of  becoming  accustomed  to  the 
loneliness  is  long  and  painful." 

And  again:  "Could  we  bear  these  separations 
from  our  dear  ones  did  we  not  feel  sure  that  we 
shall  meet  them  again  ?  .  .  .  We  can  trust 
it  all  to  a  loving  Heavenly  Father  who  has 
not  given  us  these  strong  affections  to  be  finally 
disappointed." 

Of  her  own  family  Miss  Minnie  Kittredge 
was  the  only  one  remaining. 


VI 

Closing  of  the  School,  and  Death 

ON  the  twenty-eighth  of  June,  1900,  Mrs. 
Stearns's  daughter,  Mabel,  was  married  to 
Harvey  F.  Noble  of  Colorado  Springs.  "Peo- 
ple will  think  I  am  extravagant,"  said  Mrs. 
Stearns,  as  she  looked  at  the  beautiful  trous- 
seau, "but  Mabel  is  my  only  daughter!  She 
shall  have  her  wedding  just  as  she  wants  it." 

"As  for  the  girls, "--who  returned  for  the 
occasion,  —  "they  must  all  be  in  the  house," 
and  they  were,  twenty-four  of  them ! 

The  wedding  was  held  in  the  evening,  in  the 
college  church.  It  was  a  memorably  beautiful 
occasion.  Dr.  Bancroft  of  Andover  performed 
the  ceremony.  A  large  reception  was  held  at 
the  house  afterwards. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Stearns  could  leave,  she 
went  to  First  Connecticut  Lake  to  spend  the 
summer.  Three  lakes  are  the  source  of  the 
Connecticut  River,  far  up  on  the  Canadian 
border.  The  largest,  where  Metallak  Camp 

[317] 


LIFE  ALONE 

is  situated,  settles  down  among  the  hilK. 
omu  il  with  unbroken  forests,  where  bubbling 
ti< nit-streams,  half  over-grown  with  moss, 
tumble  along  under  the  black  spruce  woods  — 
or,  flecked  with  sunshim,  glide  between  tall 
black  and  yellow  birches.  One  sits  on  a  little 
sheltered  beach  to  watch  the  low-lying  clouds 
rush  along  over  the  choppy  lake,  or  paddles 
in  a  canoe  over  the  glassy  surface,  hearing  the 
lu  rmit  thrushes  or  clear  whistle  of  the  pea- 
body  bird,  the  sharp  bark  of  a  fox  on  the 
wooded  shore,  or  the  weird  laugh  of  a  loon 
from  over  the  lake.  Suddenly  there  is  a  stam- 
pede of  ducks,  their  footprints  leaving  an 
ever  widening  wake  across  the  water.  Great 
blue  herons  stalk  about  in  secluded  corners, 
little  sand-pipers  run  along  the  beach,  rare 
warblers  and  partridges  fill  the  woods,  and  at 
night  the  deer  come  out  to  graze  upon  crisp 
lily-pads  in  the  inlets. 

The  summer  here  would  have  given  Mrs. 
Stearns  perfect  happiness  —  it  did  give  her 
peace  —  except  for  the  anxiety  she  felt  about 
the  following  year.  For  a  long  rime  her  friends 
had  been  urging  her  to  give  up  the  school. 
It  had  been  a  success,  -  "due  to  God's  bless- 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

ing,"  —  her  children  were  carefully  brought 
up,  and  now  settled  in  life;  Mabel  married, 
Arthur  married,  and  teaching  in  Lakewood; 
Alfred  engaged  to  be  married,  and  his  uncle's 
assistant  at  Phillips-Andover  Academy.  Why 
should  she  continue  ?  Her  own  health,  which 
had  never  been  vigorous,  seemed  now  to  de- 
mand rest.  But  it  was  very  hard  to  make  the 
decision. 

She  had  written  from  Amherst  to  Miss  Kit- 
tredge,  who  had  been  caring  for  their  bro- 
ther's family  in  Fishkill-on-the-Hudson,  since 
his  death,  in  1896, — 

"It  has  been  a  restful,  peaceful  Sunday, 
and  the  religious  aspect  of  the  crisis  through 
which  I  am  passing  has  been  uppermost  in  my 
thoughts.  I  feel  so  sure  that  God  is  guiding 
me,  perhaps  to  a  much  needed  rest.  ...  I 
have  often  wondered  if  I  did  not  care  too  much 
for  this  home.  It  had  been  the  dream  of  my 
whole  married  life,  and  it  came  so  late,  and 
was  partly  the  fruit  of  my  own  exertions. 
I  love  my  books,  —  many  of  them  connected 
with  Will,  —  I  love  the  artistic  ornaments,  many 
of  them  the  gifts  of  my  dear  girls.  I  love  the 
grounds,  the  distant  views,  and  cannot  give 

[  3*9  1 


LIFE  ALONE 

them  up  without  a  pang.  If  they  attach  my 
soul  too  strongly  to  this  world,  and  to  all  that 
perishes,  let  them  go,  if  only  it  will  be  the 
easier  to  go  on  to  the  next  stage  of  exi 
where  I  am  sure  the  love  of  the  beautiful  \\ill 
be  more  deeply  met  than  even  here." 

To  give  it  up  seemed  best,  —  and  so  the  school 
did  not  reopen  in  the  fall  of  1900. 

The  years  which  elapsed  between  the  closing 
of  the  school  and  Mrs.  Stearns's  death  were 
a  happy  memory  of  various  visits  and  long, 
restful  hours  at  Metallak,  where  she  basked 
in  the  cool  northern  summer  sun. 

The  story  of  these  years  is  told  by  Mrs.  Noble. 

"I  think  many  of  mother's  best  friends 
wondered  what  she  would  do  with  her  life 
after  the  close  of  her  school,  how  she  could 
give  up  the  work  around  which  all  her  inter- 
est had  centred  for  twenty-three  years.  . 
In  a  letter  dated  September,  1900,  she  tells 
me  of  her  intention  of  giving  up  the  school 
and  the  house.  *  I  hope  I  may  make  the  change 
cheerfully.  When  I  think  of  my  being  left 
with  seven  children,  and  no  money,  and  how 
I  longed  to  be  able  to  do  for  them  all  that  your 
father  would  have  done,  .  .  .  when  I  remem- 
[  320  ] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

her  that  I  have  done  all  this,  my  heart  is  filled 
with  gratitude  to  the  dear  Father  who  has  led 
me  thus  far,  and  I  will  trust  Him  for  my  future, 
though  it  be  not  as  I  had  planned/  .  .  . 

"Who  even  guessed  what  it  cost  to  give  up 
her  home  ?  .  .  .  How  many  times  have  I 
heard  her  say,  'If  I  might  only  have  a  tiny 
cottage  somewhere,  and  have  with  me  my 
books  and  my  Indian  things,  and  make  a  little 
nest  for  myself!'  Yet  always  it  was  said  with 
a  smile,  knowing  that  it  could  not  be." 

Mrs.  Stearns  spent  the  greater  part  of  the 
year  in  Amherst  with  Madame  Stearns.  She 
wrote  to  her  sister,  Miss  Kittredge :  — 

"AMHERST,  October  28,  1900. 
"Mv  DEAR  MINNIE: — You  will,  I  know, 
be  anxious  to  hear  of  my  leaving  the  home, 
and  of  my  being  settled  at  mother's.  The  work 
at  the  house  was  terrible,  and  seems  to  me 
like  a  horrid  night-mare.  I  managed  to  leave 
on  Thursday  afternoon  as  I  planned,  though 
Knut,  Mrs.  Hoar  and  I  were  obliged  to  go 
back  the  next  afternoon  to  put  things  in  better 
order.  I  had  a  little  fire  in  the  furnace,  and 
have  escaped,  so  far,  without  a  cold.  My 
[  321  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

reception  at  mother's  was  very  warm;  there 
were  flowers  in  my  room,  and  I  know  that 

both  mother  and  N were  glad  that  I  had 

come. 

"I  am  surprised  at  myself  that ...  I  felt  no 
regret  at  leaving  my  beautiful  home.  It  seemed 
delightful  to  lay  aside  the  care  of  it.  .  .  .  |ust 
now  I  do  not  feel  that  1  shall  ever  care  to  re- 
turn, but  my  feelings  may  entirely  change 
before  the  year  is  gone.  ...  As  in  all  the 
crises  in  my  life,  1  seem  to  feel  underneath 
me  the  everlasting  arms,  and  to  have  had  a 
strength  more  than  human  given  me.  My  heart 
is  so  full  of  gratitude  to  the  dear  Heavenly 
Father  who  has  given  me  strength  to  accom- 
plish the  work  which  I  set  out  to  do,  after 
Will  was  taken  from  me,  that  I  must  feel  sure 
that  He  will  guide  me  to  the  end."  In  De- 
cember she  wrote  again,  "Rest  is  still  very 
delicious." 

Mrs.  Noble  continues,  "I  believe  no  one 
who  saw  her  that  winter  was  not  surprised  at 
the  ease  and  grace  which  she  displayed  in  be- 
ing able  to  lay  down,  without  a  murmur,  one 
line  of  work  and  to  take  up  another  so  totally 
different.  Did  she  lose  her  interest  in  life  or 
[3"] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

in  people  ?  Did  she  sit  with  folded  hands  and 
consider  that  at  last  life  was  to  be  one  long 
vacation  ?  Far  from  it.  Her  letters  that  win- 
ter are  full  of  her  interests,  the  people  she  saw, 
the  new  friendships  formed,  the  old  ones  made 
more  fast  because  she  now  had  more  time  to 
conscientiously  give  them,  her  ever  broadening 
outlook  on  life,  her  deep  interest  in  her  girls, 
many  of  whom  wrote  her  of  their  life-secrets, 
joys,  ambitions,  loves.  Those  who  were  mar- 
ried while  she  was  still  strong  enough  to  write, 
will,  I  am  sure,  treasure  always  the  words  sent 
to  them  at  that  time.  I  am  confident  she  let 
them  look  into  the  depths  of  her  great,  lov- 
ing heart  as  she  told  them  of  her  own  happy 
marriage." 

Mrs.  Stearns  once  wrote  to  one  of  her  chil- 
dren, "It  grieves  me  that  I  was  able  to  do  so 
little  to  keep  your  father  in  the  minds  of  you 
children,  and  I  trust  that  the  letters  which 
you  will  have  later  will  help  you  to  appreciate 
his  character,  which  was  above  all  deeply  reli- 
gious." With  this  in  mind,  Mrs.  Noble's  next 
words  show  how  different  was  the  fact ! 

"We,  her  children,  heard  his  name  so  often 
from  her  lips  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  he  still 
[  323  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

li\cd.  To  those  of  us  who  wefe  too  young, 
\\lu-n  he  died,  to  remember  him,  she  was 
always  painting  a  faithful  likeness.  His  hopes 
and  his  ambitions  for  his  children  were  t 
stantly  put  before  us,  his  views  of  life,  his 
thoughts  of  heaven;  bits  from  his  K-ttrrs  were 
read  to  us,  letters  that  he  had  written  to  his 
older  children  were  given  to  us  to  read,  'that 
you  may  see  how  he  would  have  writtrii  to  you, 
had  he  lived  longer  or  you  been  ohi 

"After  her  winter  in  Amherst,  a  visit  with 
her  sister  at  Fishkill-on-the-Hudson,  others 
with  her  sons  in  Andover  —  Alfred  was  now 
married  —  and  Lakewood,  she  again  went  for 
the  summer  to  Metallak.  She  had  grown  to 
love  it  dearly.  The  mountain  air  agreed  with 
her.  She  gained  in  strength. 

"Many  of  her  own  family  and  friends  came 
there  for  a  part  of  the  summer,  some  of  her 
girls  found  their  way  up  there,  and,  surrounded 
by  her  ever  dear  young  people,  she  spent  some 
of  the  happiest,  most  restful  days  of  her  life. 
I  suppose  it  must  have  been  the  atmosphere 
in  which  she  lived  for  so  many  years  that  kept 
her  so  young  at  heart.  There  was  no  time  when 
she  did  not  enter  with  zest  into  our  games  and 

[324] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

sports,  not  only  giving  her  loving  interest,  but 
her  presence,  often,  indeed,  entering  with  the 
rest  into  the  fun  whenever  she  was  physically 
able.  Many  will  remember  one  summer  in 
Amherst,  when,  as  usual,  her  house  was  filled 
with  boys  and  girls,  and  she  went,  reluctantly 
indeed,  to  seek  a  much  needed  rest  in  the 
Adirondacks.  We  expected  her  to  be  gone  at 
least  two  weeks,  and  though  we  missed  her 
sorely,  we  rejoiced  to  think  that  she  was  having 
a  happy  and  helpful  change.  To  our  great  sur- 
prise she  returned  at  the  end  of  one  week,  with 
the  rather  lame  excuse,  given  with  an  apologetic 
smile,  that  she  missed  her  young  people  too 
much.  She  would  be  much  happier  at  home 
with  them,  and  they  would  give  her  all  the  rest 
and  change  she  needed. 

"Again,  another  summer,  another  rest  had 
been  planned  for  her.  Her  trunks  and  bags 
were  packed.  She  was  to  leave  for  Boston 
the  next  morning,  early.  When  morning  came, 
she  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table,  smiling 
and  triumphant!  With  a  glance  out  of  the 
window,  she  said,  '  I  could  n't  possibly  start 
out  in  such  a  rain  as  this ! '  The  trip  was  given 
up,  not  postponed. 


I  IFE  ALONE 

"Writing  from  Metallak  in  the  summer  of 
1901,  she  says,  'I  have  bem  iruitod  to  goon 
a  picnic  this  afternoon.  We  are  going  to  a 
place  not  far  from  the  old  camp,  across  the 
lake,  to  have  our  supper  there,  and  come  home 
late  in  die  evening.  I  shall  enjoy  this  very 
much,  and  shall  feel  as  young  as  any  of  the 
party.  It  is  thought  quite  strange  that  at  my 
age  I  can  enjoy  these  excursions  so  murh. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  kept  up  the  habit 
of  going  with  my  girls,  but  more  likely  because 
of  my  intense  love  for  nature.'  And  this  after 
she  had  begun  to  fail  physically,  and  looked  so 
thin  and  frail. 

"Once  she  said  to  me,  'When  the  time  comes 
for  me  to  die,  I  shall  be  ready  to  go,'  and  then 
she  added,  and  her  whole  face  lighted  with  a 
wonderful  glow,  'but  oh,  I  love  life!'  In  an- 
other letter  speaking  of  old  age,  she  writes, 
*How  we  cling  to  life!  Why  is  life  here  de- 
sirable when  .  .  .  dear  ones  are  waiting  for 
us?'  And  again,  'If  we  were  living  as  God 
meant  us  to  live,  life  here  would  be  full  of 
interest,  and  we  should  not  be  longing  to  get 
away  from  it." 

She  felt  that 

[326] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

"...  age  is  opportunity,  no  less  than  youth  itself, 

"  Though  in  another  dress. 
"  For  when  the  evening  twilight  fades  away, 

"The  stars  come  out,  invisible  by  day." 

"  She  never  liked  to  sing  the  hymns  expressing 
a  morbid  desire  to  leave  this  life  for  a  paradise 
of  rest.  Those  who  knew  her  well,  feel  that 
that  was  really  the  cornerstone  of  her  character. 
Life!  truly  did  she  love  it,  its  opportunities, 
its  many  spheres  for  work,  its  interests,  people 
to  be  helped,  uplifted,  broadened ;  in  her  school 
young  characters  to  form. 

"The  plans  for  her  coming  west  were  now 
completed.  In  answer  to  my  letter,  in  which 
I  suggested  meeting  her  in  Chicago,  she  wrote, 
'Why,  my  dear  child,  I  am  not  a  silly,  selfish 
woman  who  must  be  cared  for  like  a  baby, 
and  petted  and  entertained  like  a  small  child ! 
So  be  careful  not  to  do  too  much  for  me,  else 
I  shall  be  running  back  east  for  fear  of  having 
my  character  ruined  ! ' 

"Oh,  the  sweet  joy  of  that  year,  from  Octo- 
ber first,  1901,  to  October,  1902,  when  I  was 
able  to  pet  and  spoil  her  to  my  heart's  content, 
when  it  was  my  delight  to  see  her  daily  gaining 
in  strength  under  the  warmth  and  brightness 

[  327  ] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

of  our  Colorado  sun,  and  because  of  the  clear, 
bracing  air.  'I  am  <piiu  in  l<>\i  \\ith  the  place/ 
she  said,  'and  would  liki  t<>  t.ikr  ;i  o.rtage  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  here';  adding, 
'Colorado  is  so  like  dear  Matheran!  Moun- 
tain air  I  always  love.'  In  the  mornings  we 
took  long  drives.  In  the  afternoons  we  v. 
to  see  friends,  or  they  came  to  us,  for  here, 
as  elsewhere,  she  had  her  dear  friends,  and  it 
was  strange,  though  perhaps  not  so  strange 
after  all,  that  they  were  mostly  younger  women 
and  girls  who  found  in  her,  as  her  own  school 
girls  had  done,  that  same  ready  interest  in 
them  and  their  affairs. 

"In  the  evenings  there  were  concerts,  lec- 
tures, panics,  or  the  quiet  hours  at  home,  when 
we  could  have  music,  or  she  would  read  to  my 
husband  and  myself.  What  a  tremendous 
reader  she  always  was!  How  she  found  time 
to  read  the  daily  papers,  her  special  magazines, 
the  Outlook,  World's  Work>  and  her  many 
religious  papers !  She  had  her  hobbies  always. 
.  .  .  Her  interest  in  missions  never  waned. 
[At  one  rime  she  even  tried  to  sell  her  diamond 
engagement  ring  to  give  more  money  to  mis- 
sions!] During  the  last  years  she  followed 

[328] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

the  work  of  a  converted  Catholic,  Father 
O'Connor  of  New  York,  and  also  that  of  a 
converted  Jew.  Her  interest  in  the  great  ques- 
tions of  the  day  increased  rather  than  de- 
creased. Her  correspondence  was  very  heavy. 
We,  her  children,  know  how  faithful  she  was 
in  writing  us,  and  how  she  enjoyed  our  letters 
in  return.  Then  the  letters  from  her  dear  girls. 
How  she  regretted  that  she  had  n't  more  time 
to  write  to  them  all !  I  can  see  her  now  coming 
into  my  room,  an  open  letter  in  her  hand,  to 
announce  to  me  that  one  had  a  small  son,  or 
that  another  was  to  be  married,  or  that  still  a 
third  had  lost  her  father  or  mother,  and  then 
the  tone  of  deep  tenderness  with  which  she 
would  say,  *  Poor  girl !  I  must  write  her  at  once/ 
With  all  these  interests  she  found  time  every 
day  to  be  with  her  little  grandson,  who  at  the 
time  of  her  coming  was  only  four  months  old. 
I  rejoice  to  recall  the  picture  they  made,  he 
sitting  in  her  lap  when  —  later  in  the  winter 
—  he  had  learned,  through  her  careful  instruc- 
tion, to  notice  the  birds  and  flowers,  pictures, 
and  even  the  school  children  passing  by  on  the 
street. 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  surprise  of  my 
[  329  ] 


1  IKE  ALONE 

friends  when  I  announced  that  mother  was  to 
accompany  my  husband  and  myself  to  the  I  1 
Paso  ball,  the  greatest  social  event  of  the  year 
in  Colorado  Springs.  It  never  occurred  to 
her  that  it  was  strange.  She  was  well  enough 
to  bear  the  excitement,  and  she  wanted  to  go. 
She  wanted  to  make  new  friends,  to  see  our 
little  world.  Had  she  forgotten  the  many, 
many  times  in  Amherst  when  she  had  been 
patroness  at  the  promenades  and  cotillions  ? 
She  went  to  the  ball,  and  enjoyed  every  minute ! 
I  seated  her  beside  a  woman  who,  I  knew, 
would  tell  her  all  about  every  one  there.  Often 
during  the  evening  I  came  up  to  her  and  said, 
'Are  you  tired,  mother?  Do  you  want  to  go 
home  ?'  She  always  answered  in  the  negative, 
followed  by  an  assurance  that  she  was  thor- 
oughly enjoying  the  evening. 

"  At  half-past  two  in  the  morning  we  took 
her  home,  tired  but  happy,  with  her  circle  of 
friends  increased.  I  could  write  forever  on 
the  joys  of  that  year,  how  I  learned  to  love  anew 
the  strong  and  splendid  elements  in  her  charac- 
ter, how  I  never  failed  to  find  her  interested  in 
the  smallest  details  of  my  daily  life,  how  she 
grew  always  stronger  in  our  glorious  climate, 

[  330  ] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

how  she  entered  with  her  usual  zest  into  the 
life  of  the  church,  going  often  twice  on  Sun- 
day, how  in  the  summer  of  1902,  when  a  sum- 
mer school  was  started  in  the  Garden  of  the 
Gods,  fully  five  miles  from  here,  she  went  once, 
sometimes  twice  a  day  to  attend  lectures,  as- 
suring me  that  she  gained  as  much  good  from 
the  nearness  to  nature  in  that  wonderful  spot, 
as  from  the  lectures  themselves. 

"Then  came  the  separation.  The  other 
children  claimed  her  and  I  had  to  let  her  go. 
A  hard,  trying  trip  east,  consisting  of  numer- 
ous delays  and  slight  accidents,  hastened  to 
undo  all  the  good  she  had  gained  by  her  year 
in  Colorado.  Her  winter  in  Andover  [where 
Alfred  was  now  Principal  of  Phillips  Acad- 
emy], and  the  next  winter  in  Lakewood,  were 
in  one  way  a  great  disappointment  to  her,  for 
she  failed  rather  than  gained  in  strength.  The 
climate  suited  her  in  one  place  no  better  than 
the  other.  A  summer  at  Metallak,  in  between 
these  two  visits,  helped  somewhat  to  restore 
her. 

"In  Lakewood  during  the  winter  of  1903-04 
she  had  several  serious  illnesses  from  which  we 
feared  she  might  not  recover,  for  the  heart 

[  331  1 


LIFE  ALONE 

trouMr,  \\hu-h  had  been  present  for  several 
years,  was  irun.iMi^  in  st\<  rity.  From  each 
attack,  however,  slu  ralluil  in  a  marvellous 
manner  so  that  she  was  able  to  enjoy  her 
books,  her  letters  and  her  friends. 

"In  May,  1904,  we  began  to  discuss  tlu- 
subject  of  mother's  again  coming  to  her  be- 
loved Colorado.  Once  she  said  to  me,  '  I 
would  ask  for  nothing  more  than  to  spend  my 
last  days  in  Colorado  and  die  there.'  At  • 
it  seemed  as  if  she  never  could  bear  the  long 
journey.  But  when  her  sister  said  that  if  she 
would  only  get  strong  enough,  she  herself 
would  bring  her,  the  news  acted  like  a  powerful 
tonic.  Though  she  was  far  from  being  well, 
she  gained  enough  so  that  the  journey  was 
undertaken,  and  in  June  they  came.  Oh,  how 
glad  she  was  to  get  here!  How  glad  we  were 
to  have  her!  When  I  said  to  her,  'Now  you 
shall  never  move  again,  mother,'  she  seemed 
to  feel  a  great  peace.  She  gained  slowly  at  first, 
but  she  gained.  She  had  a  doctor  who  was 
always,  she  said,  'like  one  of  my  boys.'  She 
had  a  loyal  and  devoted  nurse,  who  for  seven 
months  gave  her  the  best  of  care.  Soon  she 
was  able  to  sit  up  in  her  room,  then,  to  go 

[33*1 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

down  stairs,  though  at  first  she  was  carried  both 
ways.  Whole  hours  of  every  day  she  spent 
out  in  her  glorious  sunshine.  There,  seated 
in  a  comfortable  wheeled  chair,  she  spent 
much  time  in  reading  over  the  letters  her 
husband  had  written  to  her  when  she  was  in 
Paris,  and  business  kept  him  in  India.  She 
said  she  lived  over  again  those  happy  days. 
She  was  able  to  see  her  friends,  to  take  some 
of  her  meals,  at  least,  with  the  family,  and 
she  enjoyed  a  number  of  automobile  rides." 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  1904,  Mrs. 
Stearns  was  seventy  years  old.  As  a  delightful 
surprise,  she  had  many  letters  from  friends 
all  over  the  world. 

"The  day  before  Christmas,  she  went  with 
me  to  town,  to  do  a  little  shopping.  She  did  so 
enjoy  seeing  the  crowds,  feeling  the  Christmas 
spirit.  On  Christmas  day  itself,  she  came 
down  to  dinner,  and  looked  so  well  that  I 
dared  to  hope  she  might  be  spared  to  us  for 
many  years  yet.  After  dinner  came  the  tree. 
I  know  she  enjoyed  it,  and  her  many  presents, 
as  much  as  did  her  three-year-old  grandson. 
Many  of  her  girls  and  friends  contributed  to 
the  *  friendship  calendar  *  which  her  sister  sent 
[  333  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

her,  and  they  will  be  glad  to  know  that  she 
did  not  wait  to  read  each  quotation  as  the  days 
came,  but  read  them  all  that  very  hour,  and 
again,  a  few  days  later,  and  was  happy  in  tiu 
knowledge  that  so  many  had  thought  of  her. 
It  was  such  a  joy  to  see  mother's  plea  sun  m 
her  Christmas! 

"Many  times  when  I  have  had  card-parties 
or  receptions  here,  some  of  my  friends  would 
find  their  way  up  to  her  room. 

"  I  remember  one  such  occasion  vividly.  She 
was  dressed,  and  ready  for  her  visitors.  When 
they  came,  she  must  get  up  from  her  easy 
chair,  and,  with  that  sweet,  courteous  grace 
so  characteristic  of  her,  say  to  one  of  them, 
4  Won't  you  take  this  chair  ? '  It  seemed  as  if 
it  must  be  a  gathering  of  her  own,  much- 
loved  school  girls. 

"Always  in  the  afternoon  she  would  spend 
an  hour  at  least  with  her  grandson,  reading 
to  him  or  entering  into  his  little  games,  and 
though  she  slept  in  the  afternoon,  she  wanted 
the  nurse  to  open  her  door  and  have  her 
dressed  by  five,  for  that  was  the  time  when, 
fresh  and  rosy  from  his  bath,  he  would  come 
to  his  'dear  gran'ma.' 

[  334  ] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

"When,  at  the  very  last,  she  grew  suddenly 
worse,  and  had,  once  more,  to  take  to  her  bed, 
she  never  lost  her  energy  of  mind,  nor  her  in- 
terest in  the  affairs  of  the  day.  She  loved  life 
to  the  end.  While  waiting  for  her  breakfast, 
she  would  read  in  the  paragraph  Bible,  and 
then  the  daily  paper.  Only  the  last  morning 
before  she  died,  she  said  as  I  handed  her  the 
paper,  'Read  me  the  headlines.  I  am  too  tired 
to  read  to-day.'  And  when  I  read  her  about  the 
riots  and  uprisings  in  Russia,  she  said,  '  Poor 
Czar !  I  am  afraid  he  will  never  live  through  it ! ' 

"She  knew  she  was  going  to  die,  but  we 
could  not  believe  her.  We  hoped  until  the  end. 
While  she  did  not  leave  any  last  messages,  she 
spoke  of  many  of  her  loved  ones,  and  she  gave 
reasons  why  she  felt  so  happy  about  us  all. 
Her  very  last  act  was  characteristic,  for  it  was 
always  she  who  did  for  others,  and  seldom  that 
we  could  find  the  opportunity  to  do  for  her. 

"It  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  January,  1905. 
She  had  seemed  better,  and  the  doctor  thought 
she  might  pull  through  the  night,  and  rally 
from  this  attack  of  heart-failure,  as  from  so 
many  others.  He  roused  her  from  sleep  to  give 
her  some  strong  stimulant,  but  before  he  could 

[  335  J 


LIFE  ALONE 

put  his  arm  around  her  to  raise  her ,  she  had, 
with  wonderful  energy,  lifted  herself.  He  said, 
'You  are  too  quick,  Mrs.  Stearns.  You  should 
have  waited  for  me.'  His  only  answer  was 
a  sweet  smile  —  and  she  was  gone!  She,  too, 
had  'penetrated  the  veil  which  hides  the  loved 
ones  from  our  view.' ' 

Mrs.  Noble  brought  her  body  back  to  Am- 
herst,  Mrs.  Stearns's  son,  Alfred,  meeting  them 
at  Chicago.  Two  descriptions  of  the  funeral, 
sent  to  Miss  Kittredge,  who  was  prevented 
by  illness  from  being  there,  follow,  the  first 
by  Mrs.  Marshall,  the  second  by  a  nephew, 
Cecil  Bancroft. 

"January  28,  1905. 

"Saturday  morning  we  went  early  to  the 
church,  and  spent  the  entire  morning  arranging 
the  beautiful  flowers  which  were  sent  by  dear 
Mrs.  Stearns's  many  friends.  I  can't  tell  you 
what  a  comfort  it  was  to  be  there,  and  do  the 
last  small  service  for  her  whom  we  all  loved 
and  reverenced  so  deeply.  We  felt  we  were 
only  a  small  delegation  from  the  entire  number 
of  her  girls  who  were  thinking  of  her  with  such 

[336] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

sad  and  glad  hearts,  sad  for  our  loss,  glad  for 
her  great  gain. 

"The  church  looked  beautiful,  with  a  large 
wreath  of  cream  roses  and  violets  over  Mr. 
Stearns's  memorial  tablet,  and  a  wreath  of 
pink  roses  and  lilies-of-the-valley  over  Presi- 
dent Stearns's  tablet. 

"The  casket  was  covered  with  bunches  and 
sprays  of  lovely  violets.  Across  the  centre  lay 
a  few  stalks  of  Easter  lilies  (the  flower  of  the 
resurrection).  At  the  foot  of  the  casket  lay 
Mr.  Tucker's  beautiful  wreath  of  bronze-col- 
oured leaves,  with  a  few  violets  to  give  a  touch 
of  sweetness.  .  .  .  She  was  lying  beneath  a 
cover  of  violets,  and  even  the  physical  part  of 
death  was  robbed  of  its  sting.  .  .  . 

"We  expected  to  be  overcome  by  grief,  but 
for  my  part  I  thought  only  of  the  glad  reunion 
above  with  her  precious  husband  and  children, 
and  somehow  through  all  the  service  the  image 
came  to  me  as  she  sat  among  the  girls  during 
Bible  class  hour  with  her  own  well-worn  Bible 
in  her  hands.  She  was  a  blessed  woman!" 

"I  found  two  of  her  girls  in  charge  of  the 
flowers  at  the  church,  which  they  had  arranged 
[  337  ] 


LIFE  ALONE 

very  tastefully.  .  .  .  There  were  many  beau- 
tiful wn-aths,  and  roses,  and  carh.in..n  .  and 
much  smilax.  The  service  advertised  for 
twelve  was  not  begun  till  12:30,  as  the  train 
from  Boston  was  fifty  minutes  late.  The  or- 
ganist played  for  us  while  we  waited,  '  1  ki 
that  my  Redeemer  liw-th,'  HiimKTs  Mes- 
siah, I  think  one  of  Mendelssohn's  Songs 
without  Words,  Handel's  Largo,  and  a  sweet 
and  beautiful  piece  I  cannot  now  recall.  The 
other  music  consisted  of  two  unaccompanied 
male  quartettes,  'Peace,  perfect  peace*  and 
'Abide  with  me/  and  the  reading  (very  effect- 
ive, by  President  Harris)  of  'For  all  the  saints 
who  from  their  labours  rest.'  He  also  made 
a  very  beautiful  and  comforting  prayer.  The 
village  pastor  read  scripture,  as  did  also  Dr. 
Preserved  Smith.  .  .  . 

"  You  would  have  been  touched  to  see  the 
little  group  of  Convent  girls  sitting  together 
behind  the  relatives  and  intimate  friends.  .  .  . 

"We  left  the  church  at  about  1 140  for  the 
cemetery.  .  .  .  Except  for  the  cold,  the  wea- 
ther was  perfect,  a  cloudless  sky,  the  earth 
all  pure  white,  the  beautiful  hills  encircling 
the  town,  and  everywhere  visible  because  of  the 

[338] 


CLOSING  OF  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  DEATH 

leafless  trees.  .  .  .  About  twenty  went  to  the 
cemetery  where  President  Harris  gave  the  brief 
commitment  service." 

And  then  we  put  her  away,  all  repeating  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  those  of  us  who  could,  and  she 
was  at  rest  beside  her  husband,  from  whom 
she  had  for  over  thirty  years  been  separated. 


After  all,  the  events  of  Mrs.  Stearns's  life 
hardly  seem  to  count.  The  greater  part  of  it 
was  spent  in  quiet  New  England,  a  round 
of  daily  tasks  which  she  did  not  find  humdrum, 
of  annoying  details  over  which  she  did  not 
worry. 

Though  her  children  had  been  carefully 
brought  up,  and  her  life  work  ended  fortu- 
nately, her  personality  was  her  supreme  suc- 
cess. She  had  lived  a  full-orbed  life,  as  a  wife, 
as  a  mother,  as  a  teacher,  as  a  child  of  God, 
and  was  at  last  "  earth's  noblest  thing,  a 
woman  perfected." 

It  is  said  that  on  the  day  of  Henry  Thoreau's 
funeral,  while  his  friends  were  quietly  sitting 
at  supper,  Mr.  Channing  suddenly  leaped 

[  339  ] 


I  IFE  ALONE 

up  from  the  table  as  he  saw  a  brilliant  after- 
glow illuminate  the  eastern  clouds,  exclaim- 
ing, "  No,  no,  he  is  not  dead !  ...  He  is  not 
dead !  He  lives  in  every  trembling  leaf  and  blade 
of  grass !  In  the  glory  of  the  sky  and  the  beauty 
of  earth  which  he  so  much  loved!" 

Even  so  Mrs.  Stearns  lives  in  our  hearts, 
and  by  the  "power  of  a  beautiful  contagion" 
will  continue  to  live  as  long  as  ideals  exist,  or 
aspiration  is  reality. 


[  340  ] 


APPENDIX 


Appendix   A 

Dates 

Mary  Emmeline  Kittredge,  born,  July  25,  1834* 

Mary  Emmeline  Kittredge,  married,  Aug.  24,  1859 

Mary  Emmeline  Kittredge  Stearns  left  America  for  India, 

Sept.  28,  1859 

Wm.  Kittredge  Stearns,  born  in  Bombay,  May  18,  1860 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  visited  America,  1862 

Frazar  A.  Stearns,  died,  March  14,  1862 

Harold  Stearns,  born  in  Bombay,  May  31,  1863 

Arthur  French  Stearns,  born  in  Bombay,  July  30,  1864 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  went  to  Paris,  1865 

Mrs.  Faithfull,  died,  June,  1865 

Ethel  Stearns,  born  in  Paris,  Oct.  n,  1865 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  came  to  America,  Nov.,  1866 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  returned  to  Bombay,  Jan.,  1867 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  left  Bombay  for  America, 

April  20,  1868 

Annie  Kirby  Stearns,  born  in  Orange,  Nov.  6,  1868 

Mr.  Stearns  in  Bombay,  Jan.-April,  1869 

Captain  Timothy  Kittredge,  died,  Feb.  10,  1870 

Mr.  Stearns  visited  England,  Juty»  *$7° 

Mrs.  Timothy  Kittredge,  died,  Aug.  28,  1870 

College  Church  corner-stone  laid,  Sept.  22,  1870 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  visited  Florida,  March,  1871 

*  The  date  of  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Stearns,  as  well  as  of  Mr.  Stearns, 
is  given  as  1835  on  their  gravestones  in  the  old  West  Cemetery  at  Am- 
herst.  They  were  both  born  in  1834. 

[  343  ] 


APPENDIX 

Alfred  Ernest  Stearns,  born  in  Orange,  June  6,  1871 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns  visited  London,  Sept. -Oct.,  1871 
Mab<  I  KimriliM-  Strums,  '•••"«  in  Orange,  Dec.  24,  1872 
Mr.  Stearns  visited  England,  Nov.,  i873-Jan.,i8;4 

Mi    Stearns,  died,  May  21,  1874 

President  Stearns,  ditd,  June  8,  1876 

George  Kinrcdgc,  dud,  March  6,  1877 

Mrs.  Stearns  moved  into  the  President's  House,  Aug.,  1877 
Mrs.  Steams's  school  opened,  Sept.,  1877 

William   Kittredge   Stearns,   ditd   in   Colorado  Springs, 

May  12,  1881 

Ethel  Stearns,  ditd  in  Amhcrst,  Oct.  15,  1882 

Annie  Kirby  Stearns,  died  in  Amherst,  March  4,  1885 
Harold  Stearns,  ditd  in  Idaho  Springs,  July  4,  1890 
Mrs.  Stearns  moved  from  President's  House,  1891 

Dr.  Charles  Kittredge,  died,  1896 

Mrs.  Bancroft,  ditd,  1898 

Mrs.  Stearns  gave  up  the  school,  June,  1900 

Mary  Emmeline  Kittredge  Stearns,  died,     Jan.  24,  1905 


[344] 


Appendix   B 

AFTER  the  death  of  Mrs.  Stearns  her  girls 
wished  to  have  a  memorial  which  would  not 
be  displeasing  to  Mrs.  Stearns  herself.  Among 
many  things  discussed  was  a  window  in  the 
College  Church.  But  we  knew  she  would  pre- 
fer that  the  money  collected  in  her  memory 
should  accomplish  some  real  good.  We  felt 
that  if  we  could  procure  enough  to  found  a 
scholarship  in  an  Indian  school,  it  would  please 
her  best.  Five  hundred  dollars  was  raised 
among  the  teachers  and  girls  of  her  school, 
chiefly  owing  to  the  exertions  of  Mrs.  (Sophie 
Hall)  Marshall,  and  was  sent  in  1906  to  Ahmed- 
nagar,  India,  a  mission  in  which  her  interest 
had  already  been  established. 

For  her  girls  who  founded  the  scholarship, 
I  insert  a  picture  of  Mathura  Dhondiba,  as 
well  as  the  following  short  account  of  her. 
This  letter  was  received  from  the  Rev.  R.  A. 
Hume,  D.  D.,  of  the  American  Marathi  Mis- 
sion, in  regard  to  Mathura,  who  is  being  edu- 
cated by  the  Mary  E.  Stearns  Memorial  Fund. 

[345] 


APPENDIX 

• 

Tin-  p.iru  in  single  quotation  marks  are  taken 
from  a  lettt  n  by  Dr.  Hume  two  years 

previously  to  the  founders  of  the  scholarship. 

"AMERICAN  MARATHI  MISSION, 
44  Ahmcdnagar  Districts,  Nov.  23,  1908. 

"DEAR  Miss  TODD:  —  Mrs.  Hume  and  I 
are  touring  in  the  villages.  Just  now  we  are 
tenting  in  a  beautiful  mango-grove  in  tin  \il- 
lage  in  which  Mathura  Dhondiba  Salve  has 
her  home.  .  .  .  She  now  sits  before  my  wife 
and  myself.  The  Girls'  School  in  Ahmednagar 
has  a  month's  vacation.  So  she  is  now  at  home. 

"Mathura  has  for  a  year  been  studying  in 
the  fourth  Marathi  and  the  first  English 
standards.  At  the  end  of  the  year  she  was  pro- 
moted into  the  fifth  Marathi  and  second 
English  standards.  In  her  class  there  v, 
twenty-five  girls.  In  order  of  merit  she  stood 
eighth.  This  shows  that  she  is  bright.  'This 
school  has  two  departments,  a  Vernacular 
Department  in  which  the  girls  study  only 
Marathi,  and  an  Anglo-Vernacular  Depart- 
ment, in  which  they  study  English  as  well 
as  Marathi.  ...  At  present  the  hours  of  that 
department  are  from  7  A.  M.  till  12:30  P.  M. 

[346] 


Matbura  Dbondiba  Salve 


APPENDIX 

In  the  afternoon  the  girls  of  that  department 
have  sewing,  drawing,  musical  drill,  etc.  The 
subjects  studied  are  the  ordinary  ones  in  any 
school.  English  is  studied  very  much  as  French 
or  German  is  studied  in  America.  In  addition 
to  the  study  of  books,  attention  is  paid  to  using 
English  in  speech.' 

"Hitherto  she  has  lived  in  the  Vernacular 
section  of  the  Girls'  School.  Hereafter,  she 
and  her  sister  Miriam  will  live  in  the  Anglo- 
Vernacular  section.  .  .  . 

"  She  is  a  modest,  gentle  girl.  'Mathura  has 
good  ability  and  good  character.  So  there  is 
every  prospect  that  she  will  become  a  fine 
woman.  It  will  probably  take  her  seven  years 
[written  in  1906]  to  finish  her  studies  if  she 
studies  as  far  as  the  requirements  for  admis- 
sion to  college.  Comparatively  few  Indian  girls 
have  yet  gone  to  college.  If  Mathura  should 
prove  worthy  and  promising,  as  now  appears 
probable,  perhaps  she  might  be  thought  worthy 
of  being  helped  to  gain  a  college  education.  If 
you  should  be  willing,  by  and  by,  to  help  her 
to  that,  it  might  be  that  you  have  fitted  a  fine 
Indian  girl  for  a  wide  sphere  of  usefulness.' 

"  She  and  her  parents,  all  of  whom  are  now 

[347] 


APPENDIX 

seated  in  front  of  our  small  tent  (which  is  ten 
feet  square),  send  their  hearty  thanks  to  tin- 
young  ladies  who  founded  the  scholarship 
which  gives  her  an  education.  Her  father  is 
pastor  of  the  church  in  Jamgaon  —  fifteen 
miles  west  of  Ahmednagar  City  in  tht 
District.  -  He  is  a  steady,  faithful  minister, 
with  a  very  large  family,  viz.,  eight  daughters 
and  two  sons.  '  Her  older  sisters  have  all  had  a 
good  education.  Two  of  them  became  teachers, 
one  a  capable  kindergartner.'  Of  the  eight 
daughters  four  are  married.  Of  the  two  sons 
one  is  a  drawing  teacher  in  a  mission  school. 
But  you  can  imagine  how  hard  it  is  for  the 
father,  whose  pay  is  $5  a  month,  to  support 
four  girls  and  one  boy. 

"*Her  mother,  Pritabai  (the  meaning  of 
whose  name  is  Mrs.  Love),  is  a  very  nice  wo- 
man. She  has  trained  all  her  daughters  well, 
and  is  very  anxious  for  their  advancement  in 
good  things.' 

"  Mrs.  Hume  joins  me  in  thanks  to  the  young 
ladies  of  the  Stearns  Scholarship  circle,  and  with 
kind  regards  to  your  parents  and  yourself,  I  am, 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"R.  A.  HUME." 
[348] 


APPENDIX 

In  spite  of  some  repetition,  I  add  another 
letter,  the  first  ever  sent  us  by  Mathura  herself, 
and  received  on  the  eighth  of  October,  after  the 
book  is  in  press. 

AHMEDNAGAR,  August,  1909. 

DEAR  MADAM,  —  Many  salaams  to  you.  I  am  in  the 
Marathi  Vth  and  English  1st  standard.  My  studies  are 
going  on  well.  Our  school  begins  at  7  A.  M.  and  is  closed  at 
12  P.  M.  Girls  live  in  separate  houses  according  to  classes: 
Girls  in  the  Vth  standard  live  in  one  house  and  so  on.  We 
all  live  very  friendly  with  one  another. 

I  have  eight  sisters  and  two  brothers.  Out  of  eight  four 
are  married,  and  they  are  living  comfortably;  the  other 
four  are  studying  in  schools.  The  elder  brother  is  a  school- 
master and  the  younger  one  is  in  the  English  IVth  stand- 
ard. My  father  is  a  village -pastor.  He  goes  to  a  village 
daily  to  preach  the  word  of  God.  The  name  of  our  village 
is  "Jamgaon,"  means  the  village  of  guavas;  but  the  fact  is 
there  is  not  a  single  guava-tree.  There  is  a  very  old  palace 
in  this  village.  It  is  in  good  order.  It  has  four  stories.  It 
is  all  built  of  pure  white  marble  stone.  The  carving  on  the 
walls  is  very  interesting  and  worth-seeing.  In  one  room  the 
walls  are  such  that  if  you  touch  them  your  hand  sticks  to 
them.  In  another  room  three  old  rupees  (silver  coins). 
When  any  one  brings  out  some  of  them  they  immediately 
turn  into  coals.  It  is  a  wonder.  Nobody  knows  why  it 
happens;  but  there  is  the  fact.  In  front  of  this  palace  there 
is  a  well.  Through  this  well  there  is,  it  is  said,  an  under- 
ground passage  up  to  the  great  Mahal  of  Sultana  Chand- 
bibi  (the  celebrated  queen  of  Ahmednagar).  There  is 

[  349  ] 


APPENDIX 

great  scarcity  of  water  in  this  village  of  Jamgaon 
obliged  to  bring  water  daily  from  a  distance  of  more  than 
two  miles,  though  tin   <  ,.  ..  mmcnt  has  dug  a  grrat  tank 
near  the  village.    However,  there  is  a  great  number  of 
mango  and  other  fruit  tree*. 

it  I  go  home  for  vacation  I  tell  to  Hindu  children 
many  stories  from  the  Hiblr,  and  try  to  make  them  see  the 
love  of  God  and  Jesus  Christ.  I  thank  you  for  the  kind 
interest  you  take  in  me,  a  poor  girl  and  also  for  the  money 
you  send  for  me.  I  pray  God  my  1  1  ather  to  blest 

you  abundantly  and    keep  you  safe  from  all  danger*. 
Please  do  not  forget  to  pray  for  me. 

Your  humble  daughter, 

MATHURA  DHONDIBA . 

After  the  money  had  been  sent  to  India,  we 
all  realized  that  we  must  have  some  memorial 
nearer  home  as  well.  We  decided  on  a  small 
pamphlet,  which  should  contain  many  tt 
monials  from  the  friends  of  Mrs.  Stearns,  and 
a  short  sketch  of  her  life.  I  do  not  apologize 
for  reversing  the  order !  The  lesson  of  her  life 
is  too  apparent.  But  for  the  benefit  of  her  pu- 
pils who  still  expect  what,  three  years  ago,  we 
decided  to  have,  I  have  inserted  a  few  quota- 
tions from  letters  sent  to  Mrs.  Stearns's  sister 
and  daughter  after  her  death. 

Appreciations  from  some  of  the  teachers  in 
her  school  follow  the  quotations. 

[350] 


APPENDIX 

"Dear  Mrs.  Stearns,  your  beloved  mother, 
is  dead.  .  .  . 

"It  is  sad  that  earth  has  been  robbed  of 
such  a  life,  for  there  are  few  like  her.  She  was 
an  angel  while  here." 

"We  can  never  forget  her,  and  the  world 
seems  different  and  lacking  without  her." 

"I  have  missed  her  so,  thinking  of  her  each 
time  I  looked  from  my  windows"  —toward 
her  Amherst  home. 

"The  beauty  of  her  giving  was  that  she  al- 
ways made  you  see  that  she  was  really  getting 
pleasure  out  of  pleasing  you." 

"When  we  look  at  life  from  her  standpoint, 
what  a  wonderful  thing  it  is  to  live!" 

"I  love  to  think  of  your  mother  and  the 
beautiful  example  she  set  for  all  her  girls, 
giving  to  each  some  personal  touch  which  will 
last  to  the  end  of  their  lives." 

"I  have  a  deep  feeling  of  personal  loss,  too, 
.  .  .  for  no  one  could  have  lived  with  her 
and  not  have  loved  her.  She  was  .the  wisest, 
bravest  and  best  woman  I  ever  knew." 

"Those  three  years  under  her  care  were  the 
turning  point  of  my  life." 

"You  know  only  too  well  all  she  did  for  me, 

[351  ] 


APPENDIX 

and  how  I  prize  everything  I  can  remember 
about  her." 

"It  seems  a  personal  loss  to  me." 

"I  he  kindly  interest  she  had  in  me  and  her 
good  advice  were  just  what  I  needed." 

"  I  have  the  sweetest  memories  of  your  dear 
mother  and  her  loving  counsels  to  me,  and  of 
the  goodness  and  truth  she  taught  and  lived." 

"  If  we  could  only  say  how  much  we  loved 
her!" 

"With  all  my  faults,  I  don't  remember  any- 
thing but  the  most  sympathetic  and  affection- 
ate consideration  from  her.  Of  course  such 
a  regard  from  her  drew  or  gave  me  the  deepest 
love  for  her." 

"  Your  dear  mother  was  like  a  mother  to  us 
all." 

"Your  sweet  mother  was  such  a  saint." 

"My  boys  are  at  school ...  as  nearly  like 
your  dear  mother's  school  as  any  we  could  find 
for  boys." 

"...  Loving  appreciation  of  what  her 
brave,  beautiful  character  did  for  me.  I  count 
her  influence  as  one  of  the  strongest  in  my 
life,  and  her  heroism  and  trust  in  God  will 
make  all  my  life  easier." 

[352] 


APPENDIX 

"When  I  get  blue  and  despondent  and  feel 
that  I  don't  amount  to  much  after  all,  it  does 
me  good  to  think  of  her  plucky  fight,  and  makes 
me  ashamed  to  be  weak-minded." 

"Mrs.  Stearns  was  the  finest  and  grandest 
example  of  Christian  womanhood  I  have  ever 
known.  .  .  .  Her  helpful  talks  to  us  made  an 
indelible  impression  upon  my  mind.  .  .  .  No 
one  could  come  in  contact  with  her  without 
being  the  better  for  it." 

"Has  she  not  been  a  second  mother  to 
me?" 

"  A  great  many  of  us  have  lost  the  best  friend 
we  have  ever  had." 

"That  dear  face  with  God's  seal  set  upon  it. 
My  heart  is  with  you,  ...  for  I  know  what 
you  have  lost.  I  have  loved  her  for  years  and 
years.  ...  I  think  of  her  happiness  in  being 
with  her  dear  husband  and  children,  and  I 
rejoice  with  her." 

"I  am  so  happy  and  grateful  that  she  is 
having  the  peace  she  so  richly  deserves.  .  .  . 
If  any  human  being  was  prepared  for  eternal 
life  it  is  the  dear  one  who  has  gone,  who  so 
bravely  worked  for  you  all  here." 

[  353  ] 


Ai'i-i  NDI\ 

44  Home  School  for  Girls,  —  it  is  a  name 
in  frequent  use,  but  rarely  so  truly  representing 
the  character  of  the  school  as  it  did  that 
Mrs.  Stearns.  Many  are  the  family  schools, 
where  all  are  gathered  under  one  roof,  but  rare 
is  it  to  find  a  true  home  where  the  mothi- 
present.  Mrs.  Stearns  had  the  true  moth- 
heart;  a  heart  large  enough  to  reach  out  be- 
yond her  own  seven  children,  embrace  every 
pupil  who  came  within  the  home,  and  make  of 
her  a  daughter.  To  you,  dear  girls,  for  whom 
this  little  memorial  is  prepared,  I  do  not  need 
to  enlarge  upon  this  thought.  You  all  recall 
the  tender  care,  the  sympathetic  ear,  the 
4  mother '  to  whom  you  could  ever  go,  and  in 
the  privacy  of  her  room  gain  the  comfort  and 
help  and  strength  that  met  your  need.  The 
burden  upon  her  heart,  to  which  she  constantly 
gave  expression  when  talking  with  her  teach- 
ers, was  the  longing  to  help  each  girl  to  a  more 
useful,  more  Christ-like  life;  as  if  you  were 
her  own  daughters,  she  earnestly  sought  for 
this.  It  is  a  fitting  tribute  you  have  paid  to  her 
memory  in  making  provision  that  her  loved 
work  may  never  cease,  by  establishing  a  perma- 
nent fund  for  the  Christian  training  of  some 

[35+] 


APPENDIX 

child  in  India,  that  happy  home  of  her  early 
married  life. 

"  She  may  not  move  among  us  again,  her  lips 
may  not  speak  the  words  we  long  to  hear,  but 
among  the  memories  of  each  of  us,  teacher  as 
well  as  pupil,  is  a  loving  mother  who  cannot 
fail  to  influence  our  lives  to  the  very  end. 

"S.  C.  S." 


[  355  1 


APPENDIX 

"One  dear  and  lovely  view  in  our  valley 
is  this.  — Across  the  meadows  and  the  river, 
beyond  the  Hadley  spires  when  the  afternoon 
sun  is  shining  on  the  Chapel  tower,  and  College 
Hill  stands  out  in  outlines  both  picturesque  and 
classic,  the  eye  is  pleased  with  seeing,  and  mem- 
ories and  associations  come  thronging.  To  me, 
with  this  vision,  one  strong  personality  stands 
out  by  itself,  for  it  was  no  slight  privilege  to 
live  with  a  large-minded,  generous  woman  for 
fourteen  years. 

"Mrs.  Stearns  was  born  in  the  White  Moun- 
tain country  and  loved  to  recall  the  glorious 
view  all  the  way  from  her  own  home  to  the 
Mont  Vernon  village.  She  has  told  me  about 
her  mother,  how  she  was  really  the  one  to  start 
the  Academy,  how  she  gathered  the  neigh- 
bours' children  with  her  own,  and  taught  them 
to  sing,  and  when  nature  study  had  not  even 
the  name,  interested  the  children  in  flowers  and 
minerals.  This  mother,  amid  the  cares  and 
duties  of  a  hill  farm,  weaving  into  childish 
minds  the  interests  pertaining  to  a  wider  and 
more  beautiful  life,  was  a  fair  prototype  of  her 
oldest  daughter.  In  this  daughter  were  the 
basal  elements  of  truth  and  high  principle,  firm 

[356] 


APPENDIX 

as  the  rocks  of  the  Granite  State.  Rooted  in 
such  a  character  and  flowering  out  of  it  were 
the  graces  of  gentleness  and  courtesy  that  so 
drew  even  the  stranger.  It  would  be  a  long 
procession  if  all  those  were  to  file  past,  who 
in  either  joy  or  sorrow  were  wont  to  pour  out 
their  hearts  to  that  kind  friend  who  never 
refused  a  listening  ear. 

"The  house  might  be  very  quiet  when  the 
girls  were  all  out,  but  never  lonesome  as  long 
as  she  was  there.  It  is  to  such  that  Ruskin 
would  have  allotted  a  large  plot  in  Queen's 
Gardens.  A  fragrance  like  roses  and  all  sweet 
herbs  permeates  her  memory. 

"A.  M.  P." 


357  ] 


APPENDIX 

"My  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Stearns  began 
in  1887  when  I  became  a  teacher  in  her  school. 

"As  my  duties  there  required  my  attend- 
ance for  only  a  few  hours  in  the  morning  when 
Mis.  Stearns  was  particularly  engaged,  I  had 
little  opportunity  of  seeing  her,  but  ,  .  .  no 
one  could  be  brought  in  contact  with  Mrs. 
Stearns  in  the  most  casual  way  without 
izing  her  high  standard  of  womanhood.  Her 
quiet  strength,  her  pure  child-like  spirit,  and 
the  perfect  openness  of  her  mind,  were  charac- 
teristics too  manifest  to  be  overlooked.  I  never 
knew  one  so  able  intellectually  who  made  less 
display  of  her  gifts,  or  who  thought  it  less 
necessary  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  her  posi- 
tion. This  was,  indeed,  unnecessary,  as  her 
very  character  won  for  her,  without  effort,  the 
honourable  place  she  held  in  the  estimation  of 
all  who  knew  her.  Her  sincere  religious  life 
was  also  most  apparent. 

"The  devoted  attachment  of  her  pupils 
testifies  more  strongly  than  can  any  words  of 
mine  to  the  hold  she  had  upon  them.  In  all 
their  interests,  physical,  mental  and  spiritual, 
she  watched  over  them  with  a  wise  and  loving 
mother's  care,  and  after  they  had  gone  out  to 

[  358  ]  ' 


APPENDIX 

take  their  places  in  the  world,  they  came  back 
from  time  to  time  to  tell  her  of  their  loving 
gratitude  for  all  her  care. 

"One  in  particular  I  have  in  mind,  who  was 
with  Mrs.  Stearns  as  a  pupil  for  many  years. 
.  .  .  Year  after  year  she  returned  to  this  school 
home,  and  after  its  existence  as  a  school  had 
ceased,  she  made  frequent  pilgrimages  to  the 
town,  that  she  might  be  near  the  scenes  of  those 
happy  years. 

"The  influence  of  such  a  life  as  Mrs. 
Stearns  lived  in  the  presence  of  her  pupils, 
leading  them  by  word  and  example  to  seek 
and  love  the  better  way,  can  never  be  over 
estimated. 

"A.  L.  W.  W." 


[  359  ] 


APPENDIX 

"It  was  my  privilege  to  spend  four. happy 
years  in  Mrs.  Steai  <x>l  as  a  teacher  of 

German.  ...  It  was  a  revelation  to  me  to 
see  how  Mrs.  Stearns,  as  head  of  the  school, 
was  at  the  same  time  the  heart  and  soul  of  the 
school.  Truly,  hers  was  a  home  school,  for  as 
a  mother  she  cherished  and  cared  for  every 
scholar,  treating  all  alike,  showing  no  prefer- 
ence, and  with  loving  consideration  caring  tor 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual  welfare  of  each 
and  every  one.  Her  life  centred  in  the  school, 
although  her  outside  interests  and  activities 
were  many.  Broad-minded,  with  a  mind  keen, 
and  judgment  fair  and  just,  never  suspecting 
evil  of  any  one  until  the  evil  was  proven,  she 
was  honoured,  admired  and  beloved  by  all 
with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 

"Having  been  brought  up  in  Germany,  and 
taught  in  schools  where  only  rigid  and  strict 
discipline  rules,  and  where  the  teachers  and 
scholars  move,  as  it  were,  on  different  planes, 
it  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  revelation  to  see  her 
motherly  and  fair-minded  discipline  in  the 
treatment  of  her  scholars  and  those  under  her. 

"To  me  personally  she  was  like  a  mother. 
A  stranger  in  this  country  and  having  no  other 

[360] 


APPENDIX 

home  on  this  side  of  the  water,  she  took  me 
into  the  very  narrowest  circles  of  her  home 
and  bade  me  welcome,  giving  me  such  a  wel- 
come as  only  Mrs.  Stearns,  with  her  great 
heart,  could  give.  I  shall  never  forget  those 
happy  hours  when,  freed  from  duties  and  cares 
of  school  life,  she  gave  herself  to  the  home  life 
and  her  books.  Those  hours  spent  together 
in  vacation  time,  in  the  evening  in  her  library, 
when  she  would  relate  experiences  and  stories 
from  her  past  life,  so  rich  and  full  of  interest, 
those  hours  in  which  I  came  to  learn  and  know 
her  character,  so  broad,  so  deep  and  Christian, 
those  hours  I  shall  never  forget,  and  I  shall  ever 
be  happy  that  it  was  my  lot  to  come  under  the 
influence  and  power  of  such  a  grand,  noble 
and  self-sacrificing  life  as  was  that  of  Mrs. 
Stearns. 

«H.  B.  K." 

"...  She  was  evidently  not  merely  an  in- 
structor but  also  a  friend  and  often  mother. 
The  whole  atmosphere  of  her  home  was  filled 
with  the  personality  of  a  rarely  beautiful  and 
serenely  strong  character. 

«J.  C.  C." 
[361  ] 


APPENDIX 

"  I  hat  \\hich  appealed  to  me  most  in  Mrs. 
Stearns    \\.ts    lu  r    uoiulnl'iil    womanliness,  - 
progressive  in  i-vi-rything  that  it-mini 
her   ideal    in    womanhood,   yet   const 
io\\anl    whatever    seemed    to   overstep    that 
boundary  line.    With  a  real  mother-love  and 
sympathy  she  saw  the  good,  and  sough  r 
develop  the  best,  in  every  one  of  her  girls. 
More  than  once,  in  speaking  of  certain  ones, 
she  has  said,  'Miss  may  not  excel  as  a 

scholar,  but  she  has  character,  and  will  make 
a  fine  woman.'  The  true  woman  to  her  was 
more  than  the  scholar. 

"So,  during  my  teaching,  her  faith  and  confi- 
dence were  a  great  inspiration.  With  peculiar 
insight  she  seemed  to  understand  for  what  one 
was  striving,  and  was  always  ready  with  words 
of  encouragement  and  praise.  To  work  for  her 
was  a  privilege  and  a  pleasure.  The  memory 
of  such  a  life  is  a  precious  legacy. 

"L.M.B." 


[362] 


Lfi 

2317 

A 


I  111     1  IKK  \R\ 
\  M\  I  KM  \\    01    (    U  MnKM  \ 

S.llll.l    K.lllMI.I 


I  Mis   KOOK    is  1)1  I    ON     I  III     I   \s  I    ]>\TE 
si  \\ll'|  I)    K|  I  o\\ 


000902032    2 


